Some things should remain in the past
by SheyRicci
Summary: Sam's determined to find the three men who grabbed his brother and uncover the reason why. Dean isn't so sure he wants to know.
1. Chapter 1

Dean swung the motel room door open and stepped into the room. He didn't bother to turn a light on; the parking lot lamp-post shone through the parted curtains, illuminating the room so that he could see clearly.

"Aah, Sammy." he tossed the car keys to the table and shrugged out of his coat. The take-out container of Chinese food sat untouched next to the laptop Sam hadn't bothered to shut down. Dean cast a sideways glance at the bed, Sam was down, but was he asleep? More like passed out, whether from exhaustion or excessive drink had yet to be determined. Dean saw the bottle of AdvilPM and sighed, apparently not asleep on his own.

Dean switched the table lamp on and took a moment to rifle through the pages and print-outs and papers that were spread across the table. Seems Sam had found a new case to work on in….Dean picked up a map and huffed in annoyance, Utah? They were in Nebraska, why the hell was Sam reading newspapers from Utah? Some shit-hole town called, Aurora, closest airport being Provo, some ninety miles away.

No, no way, huh-uh, he was not going to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere in Utah. No matter what guilt trip Sam laid on him, he was not going. State was waaaaay to religious for his comfort, Sammy could knot up his knickers until he couldn't sit down and it wouldn't matter, Dean was _not_ going anywhere near the state of Utah.

***000***

"Dean, you like, gonna talk to me? I mean, how long you gonna continue to ignore me?"

No matter how often or how loud Dean turned up the radio, Sam wasn't rendered mute. Nor did he fall against the window hard enough to knock himself out despite Dean's best attempts to push the car to her maximum speed and swerve violently. Sam wisely took note of the set of his brother's jaw and decided not to push him any further.

He slouched down in the seat and laid his head against the window. A nap wasn't a bad idea, his headache from the previous night still lingered and despite a decent breakfast, he still felt drowsy. He hadn't expected the AdvilPM to have such lasting effects. He dozed until Dean next stopped for gas and when Sam returned from the men's room, Dean had Sam's cell in his hand.

"Closest motel to Aurora will be in Salina." Sam offered. He'd been asleep when they'd left the state of Nebraska and didn't know if Dean had decided to cross Wyoming or Colorado, so he really had no idea where they were or how much further they had to go. "Bobby call?"

He'd thought by now Dean would have thawed towards him, at least responded with a sarcastic barb, but nothing. Dean was not talking to him and it appeared nothing Sam said or did was going to make him do so until he was ready. It was a fourteen hour drive from Elkhorn, NE to Aurora, UT and Sam was giving serious consideration to painting the interior of the Impala pink just to piss Dean off and force him to talk. He'd rather have Dean yelling at him angrily than this cold, silent treatment,

"Next exit is Raymer, find the closest motel." he tossed Sam's phone back at him with a GPS app open.

"What road are we on? Guessing you left the interstate awhile back...….Raymer's in Colorado, so Fort Morgan, you hungry?" he glanced up at the sky, judging the sun, yeah, it was getting close to feeding time. "Can look for a restaurant, what are you in the mood for?" he wanted to ask why they were stopping for the night when they'd planned on driving straight through but Dean was in no mood for questions.

"Get in."

Dean drove around the town of Fort Morgan before circling back and pulling into the parking lot of the third motel they'd seen. He came to a stop in front of the office and waited for Sam to get a clue and get out.

"Oh, just me then." Sam put a hand on the door handle. "Aah…you….."

"Get out."

"Dean, the motel two blocks over is undoubtedly cheaper than this one…"

"Pizza or subs?"

Unless he asked Dean to drive on to the next city, there weren't a lot of choices for food in town. He preferred a sub but would agree to pizza to appease Dean. Wasn't like Dean couldn't eat an entire pizza himself, he usually did, but Sam wanted this tension between them over, so pizza, complete with extra cheese and pepperoni, it would be.

"Just….stay out of trouble ok?" Sam got out. "Don't do anything stupid." he closed the door and went into the office, not bothering to turn back to watch Dean pull out and leave him.

Dean just drove, drove to Raymer and back just to have a destination then parked at a scenic overlook and took the time to be by himself for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours. Sam and his damn ability to work Dean over to his side on _anything_ were going to drive Dean insane.

He had flat-out refused to go to Utah, had told his brother he wouldn't stop him from going but neither was he going with him. Sam had put his foot down, literally. Dean had only been able to stare him open-mouthed when he'd stomped his foot like he'd had when he'd been three, and informed him, "_we're_ going, me and _you_" and here he was.

Sam's explanation as to why they were going to Utah hadn't done anything to endear Dean to the temper tantrum Sam had thrown either. Over a month ago, Dean had taken off, an action for which Sam had yet to forgive him, on his own. He'd been arrested and snatched from the Sheriff's car on the way to jail. Sam had freaked out upon discovering Dean had been hurt by three men out to get Sam's location from him. The men had thought Sam was still hunting with the Campbell's yet thought to use Dean as bait to lure Sam into a trap.

Yeah, figure that one out.

Dean had been down for over a month with stitches in both wrists that immobilized his hands and led to an infection that made him so sick he'd been unable to do anything more than stumble to and from the bathroom. Only good thing to come of it had been Sam's reluctance to leave him in the sole care of Bobby. Sam had made the choice to sew up his butchered wrists himself, to put his brother through the painful procedure of internal stitches. Since Dean's suffering from an unfortunate reaction to antibiotics and pain meds had been a direct result of Sam's choices, he hadn't left Dean to go off half-cocked on his own.

Dean hadn't told Sam everything about that time. He should, he needed to and he would, it was just he didn't think Sam had been capable of handling anymore. He'd had to stop Sam from punching; _punching_ Suzie after he'd nearly choked her unconscious. Then he'd found out Sam had tackled her to the floor and put a cocked and loaded gun to her head. He wasn't even going to think about how Sam had treated him while at Suzie's house.

It hadn't been all Sam's fault. Dean had been the one not to tell Sam or Bobby about possible danger before exposing himself to the threat of capture. And it wasn't Sam's fault they didn't have the specific antibiotics best to treat the infection nor was it Sam's fault Dean had a negative reaction to most antibiotics. Combine that with the pain meds Sam had initially withheld, caving only after finding Dean on his knees in the bathroom with both hands bleeding and all Dean had been able to do was suffer silently in misery.

Sam wanted to know the reason the men had gone after Dean to get to him and had Dean known, he would have told Sam, but he didn't. There was no doubt Sam wanted to know what he had done to earn their wrath.

Despite Dean's description, Sam didn't recall being involved with a hunt that included any of them. Whoever they were, they knew Sam and Dean were brothers, knew Sam had hunted without Dean, thought he still was, didn't seem to know the Campbell's were gone, hadn't a clue that Sam was Sam again, or had been not-Sam. It seemed they were several months behind on current news, like whoever might have fed them information no longer did so.

Dean lay back against the windshield, heels bracing the bumper to support his weight on the hood of the car. It was cold out, but the sun was up and it would be fifteen or twenty minutes before the cold became uncomfortable. Long as Dean was ok, or appeared to be, then Sam was.

Bobby hadn't been able to get Sam to allow him to share the burden. Sam allowed Bobby close to Dean, but in no way accepted comfort of any kind of support from him. He hadn't pulled himself together until Dean had recovered enough to assume the role with Sam he'd always played.


	2. Chapter 2

If he were honest with himself, the reason he hadn't wanted to come to Utah was he really didn't want to find out anything more Sam had done the year he'd been without both his soul and Dean. It scared the hell outta him what Sam was capable of, correction, had been capable of and he preferred that his brother's ugly deeds remain unknown and in the past.

"_Jesus, Dean, you just don't get it do you? What does someone have to do? Hit you upside the head with a 2x4?"_

_Dean just stared at Gwen; he barely knew her, could honestly say he didn't like her and had no reason to trust or believe anything she said._

"_What?" she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dean, everything is about you. With Sam anyway." she picked herself up off the ground and dusted herself off. "Sure, he agreed to join us, agreed to hunt with us, agreed to follow Samuel but did you never wonder why we were so close to where you were living the ideal life with your girlfriend and her kid? Did you not lay awake at night, wondering how the moment you were in danger from the Djinn, poof, there was Sam?"_

"_What the fuck are you saying?" Dean demanded mouth so dry, not even licking his lips produced saliva. His ego had taken enough of a beating. He really didn't want or need to hear what Sam had done during the time he'd chosen not to tell Dean he was back. It hurt, and he hadn't had enough time to accept and process what he'd learned so far, he couldn't handle anything more being thrown in his face._

"_I'm saying there is nothing and no one that will ever be able to keep Sam away from you." she scoffed. "I've never met a hunter, a man, like your brother in my life. He's so cold and violent and ruthless he's downright merciless." she gave herself a shake. "Cross him and they're in for a world of hurt, threaten you and they're dead before they hit the ground."_

"_You don't know what you're talking about." his Sammy? She didn't know Sam, she couldn't, no one did, not the way he did._

"_Oh believe me. I've been with him for a year; we knew where you were, what you were doing, who you were with. You should know your year of marital bliss was danger and trouble-free because Sam was never far away from you for long. You know Dean; you really should watch your back around him." Gwen reached around him to retrieve her knife from the table. "It's obvious you get away with a lot of shit he would call others out on, but I believe he has limits even where you're concerned."_

"_And you mean, just what, by that?" what the hell was she saying? Was she daring to suggest Sam was capable of hurting him?_

_She gave him a look, a mixture of pity and annoyance. "I don't think he's the brother you remember. I hope not anyway. Whatever happened to split the two of you up musta changed him. All these months…..I'll say it, he scares the hell outta me. Sure, he mostly hunts with Samuel but I've seen a man lose his teeth over the words that came out of his mouth. And god, let someone trash talk you, I guarantee you they don't walk away. Like I said, someone dares to threaten you…" she shrugged. "I've seen it happen Dean."_

"_So what, you're trying to tell me Sam's some violent out-of-control psycho?" Dean snorted. "Right." but the seed of doubt that had already been planted, sprouted._

"_Uh, like, oh hell, yeah." she headed for the door and waited for Dean to follow. "Word or two of advice, take it or not, your business - don't take anything he considers his away from him." either she didn't notice how angry Dean was getting or she didn't care. "And yeah Dean, that includes you."_

"_He's never been selfish; he's the first to give away the last dollar he has." Dean struggled with his temper. Who the fuck was this woman to tell him who his own brother was? Okay, yeah, he'd felt something was off with Sam ever since they'd reunited, but this sassy chick was way out of line._

"_Sure, if you say so." she blew him off. "Come on, we gotta go."_

"_He doesn't own anything Gwen." Dean protested, feeling unease creep up his spine. Though he'd never admit it to her, all her attitude did was cement his belief that something was terribly wrong with Sam._

"_He has a few things he keeps, dunno what, he never lets anyone see them, picture maybe?" she shrugged in a manner that showed she didn't care. "I know he's possessive over his watch, had to have a specific gun but claims it's not really his, small things like that, you know?"_

"_Sam?" he said dubiously. "No, I don't know, it doesn't sound like him at all."_

"_Whatever." she shrugged. "All I can tell you is, I watched him beat a man for stealing from him and it took both Chris and Mark to pull him off. He wanted whatever the guy made off with back and it didn't matter he was a kid, Sam would have killed him, he wasn't letting him get away with it. 'It', being both the act of stealing from him and whatever it was he stole. Make of that what you will, but I'll tell you straight out, I'm glad you're with him now. Maybe you can control him because none of us ever could."_

Course, unknown meant dangerous. They never knew when someone or something from that year could come after them or use one against the other. Dean could handle it, but Sam…he barely had grip on his sanity and that tenuous hold to reality was tethered to Dean remaining 'hale and hearty'.

Dean rubbed his eyes, he was tired and in some pain. Driving for over eight hours had taken a toll. He wanted a hot shower, something to eat and an up-close and intimate face-to-face with a mattress. Best not to leave Sam stewing alone for too long anyway; time to ease up and cut the poor kid a break for making him come here.

Fine, if the pizza pub sold any kind of pizza that was anywhere near healthy, like whole wheat crust with veggies, he'd get it as a peace-offering. Well, half veggies. Sam would silently be freaking out over the unplanned stop at the motel; not because he was in a hurry to get to Aurora, but because Dean had been tired and uncomfortable enough to stop. Maybe his favorite pizza would placate him.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had changed and was sitting at the table, laptop booted up when Dean returned with the pizza. He tensed, not bothering to raise his head, just glanced up through his bangs to judge what kind of mood Dean had returned in.

"Whole wheat crust, your half with veggies." he carried a six-pack in one hand, the pizza in the other and he kicked the door shut with his foot. "Room good?"

Sam didn't know how or when Dean had acquired the ability to tell whether or not a motel room offered a kitchenette simply by driving past the motel, but he had and Sam had to admit he was pleased that particular ability provided him with comfort. "Yeah, town have anything to offer?"

"Couple bars, looked quiet." he set the pizza and the beer on the table as Sam pushed the laptop aside to make room. "You ready to tell me what we're going to Aurora for?" he shrugged out of his coat, tossed it on his bed, pulled out a chair and sat down. More like he was ready to listen, but Sam let him get away with it. Huh, okay, that was so not like Sam that Dean gave him a closer look to see if he could detect what was wrong.

Sam got up to look for some paper plates or towels then sat back down. "I, aah, had an idea."

"Why does that scare me?" he plopped two slices of pizza on a plate and shoved it in front of Sam. Time to see if the kid would actually eat; Bobby had pointed out to him that when he ate, so did Sam.

"While you were having an affair with the porcelain throne, I had some time to think. I can't remember everything I did or everywhere I'd been, but I started with the hunt in Bristol. Started looking for news of hunts that would have attracted our attention, both before and after that hunt and backtracked."

"Wasn't an affair." Dean protested hotly, feelings childishly hurt. "You make it sound like we had a thing going or something."

"Dean, you named it." Sam smirked drolly, biting into to the slice of pizza. "Spent more time with it, both on it and with your head..."

"So, you found something that led you to Aurora?" Dean broke in hastily, eager to change the subject.

"Yeah, looks like we did a hunt there." he pushed a print-out of a newspaper article across the table for Dean to read. "Good a place to start as any."

"You think whatever those guys want might tie into a hunt you did? No hunts closer to Bristol than Aurora?"

"Has to be a hunt somewhere, right?" he popped the tab on a beer. "Aurora caught my attention when trying to trace my steps. Hell, I dunno." he raised the can of beer and caught sight of Dean's haggard appearance. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "What you talking about? Ain't nothing wrong with me."

"Your hands hurt?" he guessed, eyes drifting the scars. Dean to pulled his hands back and hid them under the table. "Dean? You said you were ok."

"I am." he said evasively with a scowl. "Was, um, out in the cold for a bit, hot shower will help."

"You're an ass." Sam commented. "Cudda let me drive, give your hands a rest."

"Right, like you weren't snoring."

"Oh." Sam flushed. "Sorry. You in pain? Is that why we stopped?"

"I'm good." the ache in both wrists was bone deep and he doubted even a shower as hot as he could stand it would ease the pain anytime soon. That meant he'd spend another restless night trying to hide from Sam that pain was keeping him awake.

"Yeah, sure."

"What do you want me to say Sam?" he yawned. Christ, but he tired so easily these days.

Sam stared at him. His lip twitched, making his chin quiver, wanting to say; 'I want you to tell me the truth and stop hiding shit from me because you don't think I can handle it'.

"Nuthing, go take your shower." he finally sighed, unable to voice the words.

Dean didn't pursue the argument. He finished eating, put the unopened beer in the fridge and locked himself in the bathroom. Hopefully by the time he was done with his shower and crawled into bed, Sam would be over his pout and come morning, everything would be set to rights.

Sam was still at the table, back on the laptop when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom. He didn't glance up when Dean padded barefoot over to his bed, tossed his coat and duffel bag to the floor and crawled beneath the blankets. It took a moment for him to see the glass of 7-Up along with three orange pills sitting next to it on the table between the beds. Soon as he sat up and reached for the glass, Sam was on his feet.

"Want the Capsaicin cream?" Sam was digging for the tube in his duffel bag. Dean didn't answer. Maybe it helped, maybe it didn't, wasn't like he was ever going to admit the extent of the pain anyway. Whether it was some dark hidden desire to ease his brother's guilt or wanting relief so badly he was willing to believe it worked, he'd stopped protesting when Sam offered the cream. Yeah, it stung but Sam was happy when he didn't refuse it and more times than not, he was asleep with ten minutes of application.

Until the stitches had come out and there was no broken skin, all Sam had allowed him was ice. Least now, Sam grudgingly agreed to let him have ibuprofen and didn't bitch about the amount of cream he only applied before bed. He could use it as often as he wanted but it stung so badly, he couldn't stop his eyes from watering and the only way to hide that from Sam was to bury his head under the pillow and call it a night.

Sam let Dean believe what he wanted; he knew his brother would never admit his wrists hurt as badly as they did. It was obvious when they were giving him fits. Like Sam didn't recognize the signs: the mouth drawn tight, the swollen lower eye lids, the pronounced lines that creased his face, the furrow between his eyebrows. Dean never asked for the cream nor did he ever seek it out, probably didn't want Sam to go all mushy with guilt and remorse but he never refused it either. Dumb ass would rather suffer than make Sam unhappy or cause him to feel bad. He really was a dumb ass, like Sam didn't swallow bile whenever he caught Dean massaging a wrist or someone made a comment about the scars.

"Check-out's at ten." Sam took the lid off the tube and held it out to Dean. "Don't be an ass, if your hands still hurt, just let me drive."

"We'll eat on the road."

"Whatever." he wasn't in a mood to tolerate Dean any longer. He'd be spending the better part of the following day in the car with him and he preferred it to be on peaceful terms.

He sat back down at the table but was no longer interested in doing further research. Maybe the pizza wasn't sitting well with him or perhaps the beer had been too warm or it could be he was just exhausted, whatever, he didn't feel so good. He pinched at his nose between his eyes, closing the laptop and reaching for the bottle of ibuprofen. Who would care if he crawled into bed and went to sleep before the headache could get worse.


	4. Chapter 4

As usual, Dean awoke before dawn, he rolled to his back and searched in the dimness for the clock; four-thirty. Huh, maybe he should go to bed on a belly full of beer, pizza and irritation at Sam more often. Knowing he wouldn't go back to sleep and they wouldn't be leaving much before nine, he got up and took the laundry to the twenty-four hour Laundromat he'd seen while cruising the town.

No need to leave Sam a note, the missing clothes would clue him in where he'd gone and Sam would know from experience to be ready to leave when Dean returned with coffee and bagels.

When Sam finally greeted the day, he didn't care what time it was. If this was how consciousness was going to go for the day, he didn't want to be awake. He remained sprawled on his belly, listening for sounds of movement first in the room, then in the bathroom. When he heard nothing, he pushed himself up on his elbows and twisted around to gaze blearily at an empty bed, an empty room and an open bathroom door.

"Shit." movement was not a good idea. The room swirled and spun and dipped and didn't stop when he lowered his head to lay flat on the mattress. Even with his eyes closed and the pillow pulled over his head, the dizziness persisted. Fuck. He'd hoped to have slept off the headache that had come and gone for two, no three days now but it was worse than it had been before.

Ok, time to practice what he was always preaching to Dean and get up and find something to eat. He worked his legs to the edge of the mattress, then his hips, finally pulling his shoulders to join the rest of his body. Wow, he felt like he'd been thrown across the room with demonic force into a concrete wall. His entire body ached, felt bruised and swollen, like he'd spent the night sleeping on a hard floor instead of on a soft, comfy mattress. The pain in his head refused to allow him to keep his eyes open so he slid one leg to the floor and brought his head off the mattress with both eyes squeezed shut.

The silence in the room told him Dean had gone out. Probably for coffee, God he hoped so, no one should have to deal with Dean before coffee. That meant he was expected to be showered and shaved and ready to go when Dean returned but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Teeth gritted, fists clenched, Sam managed to push his weary body out of bed. Unable to stand upright, he doubled over, staggering three steps between the two beds before he could go no further. He weaved as his hands flailed in search of support but his body refused to cooperate. Unable to gain his balance, he pitched sideways, not bothering to do anything to stop his descent.

"Yo! Sammy Jo!" Dean sang, swinging through the door. "Get your boots that were made for walkin' on! Time to haul ass outta here." he jingled the car keys, still hanging onto the door knob. "Hey, dude, get your ass outta bed, time to check out and hit the road." he stepped on into the room and closed the door behind him. "Dude, come on! Hey, where the hell are…..you?" a quick visual scan of the room revealed an empty bed, an open bathroom door and an unoccupied table chair. "What the fuck are you doing in my bed?"

Sam dug a hand out from the blankets and waved a limp wrist in the general direction he perceived his brother was.

"That better not mean you're shushing me." Dean groused. "Uh, so, something you wanna tell me? You tie on one too many last night?" Sam sure as hell hadn't passed out from finishing the six-pack in the fridge and there was no way Dean had slept through Sam leaving the motel and coming back soused, so what the hell? "Come on, up and at 'em, let's go, let's go…..L-E-T-S-G-O!" he repeatedly chanted the high school basketball cheer in a cheery sing-song voice. "Get a move on Samonsite, got a lot of miles to cover and dude, that's my bed."

"God, shut up." Sam moaned, head buried under the pillow. Dean rolled his eyes, crossing the room to nudge the mattress with his knee and lay a well-placed smack on Sam's foot. It was the whispered 'please' followed by 'don't' that had him giving the foot he had just smacked a quick rub.

"Sam, you ok?" he glanced around the room, searching for a clue to tell him what was wrong. Didn't know what he expected to find, but there had to be a reason Sam was still in bed, the wrong bed at that.

"No." he stirred, pushing the pillow to the side but leaving his head flat. "Do…we hafta go?"

"Well, yeah we gotta go, you can sleep in the car." he frowned; Sam had made no attempt to pack up or clean the room. "Come on, it's 9:30, be quick about it, you have time for a shower while I pack up."

"Breakfast?" his tongue was thick, felt swollen. He must be dehydrated and why he felt so awful. He'd drink lots of fluids, swallow some aspirin, sleep awhile longer and he'd feel better. "Water?"

"Yeah, coffee, no bagels, brought you a muffin though." Dean moved about the room and began to collect the files on the desk to stuff into the laptop bag. He was on his knees under the desk to unplug the computer when he realized Sam had yet to get up. "Samantha! Come on, not fooling around here, get a move on."

Sam managed to sit up but wasn't able to push the blankets off his legs and actually get out of bed. He sat with his hands in his lap, blinking in sleepy confusion at the sight of his brother crawling around on the floor.

"What'r'ya lookin' for?" he couldn't figure out what Dean was doing, unable to comprehend anything more than he didn't want to get out of bed. "What'd'ya lose?" he slurred sleepily as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "De-an?"

"Samsung, not telling you again….." his head popped up over the table. "Shower, now…."

"Can't." Sam blinked but everything remained blurry. "Don't wanna." a yawn overwhelmed his ability to speak and the longer he remained sitting up, the worse he felt.

"Don't want a shower? Whatever, but you need clothes, at least brush your teeth ….."

"Go." Sam finished when he finished yawning. He pushed at his hair, letting his head that was too heavy to hold up bump against the wall.

"Go where? The bathroom? What the hell's with you?"

"No." Sam groaned. God, but Dean could be so thick-headed. "Leave Dean."

"You want me to leave?" Dean repeated, climbing to his feet and stuffing the laptop into its carry bag. "That's a change, you wouldn't let me outta your sight these last two months. Where do you want me to go?"

Sam put his hands to his head, fingers spreading out to hold his neck, turning his head first one way then the other, tipping it forwards, then backwards. Yup, still attached, so why the hell was Dean looking at him like he'd lost his mind?

"Thought you were all hot and horny to get to Aurora." Dean went into the bathroom to pack up whatever Sam had left lying about. "Or is your plan to go it alone again?"

"I am, just…..I dunno." he searched the room with his eyes, everything was blurry and a myriad of colors, but he should be able to identify the bottle of ibuprofen. His head was pounding, hadn't let up at all and the thought of riding in the car made his stomach heave. "Can we…wait, what?" he had a moment of clarity, well somewhat. "You're not going anywhere alone Dean, forget it." his voice was clear, not a slurred word and his eyes came into focus.

"You just told me to leave!" he came to the bathroom doorway. "You sure you're ok?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't!" a palm to his forehead kept his head from pitching him sideways, had Dean stalking closer to the bed.

"You just said, 'leave Dean', nothing wrong with my hearing Sam."

"No. no, no, no, NO!" he closed his eyes with a whimpered moan - shouting not a good idea. "I just… I don't want to leave….can we stay another day? Please? Just give me time to sleep off this headache?"

Dean was in his face, nose to nose, needing to see for himself the man in bed was indeed his overgrown brother. Sam never asked to delay a hunt or give up a lead. All he'd been focused on since the incident in Somersville was finding the men who had gone after Dean and the reason they had. He had a lead, had strong-armed Dean into following it and now, he wanted to spend a day sleeping off a headache?

"Sam, what is it? More hallucinations? Thought you were handling them ok, you've been sleeping…"

"No." he shook his head that he now held with both hands. "No, nothing like that, just a headache."

"You're telling me you want to stay in bed all day because your head hurts?" Dean stepped back and pried Sam's elbow away from his chest, looking to see the tattoo beneath the t-shirt Sam wore. Needing to see it to convince himself there was no need for holy water. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with Sammy?" he joked but Sam didn't rise to the baiting. "Sam?"

"Yeah." he licked at his lips, lowering his hands to pull the blankets close. "Cold in here? Or is it me?"

"You're serious." Dean said slowly. "You don't want me to leave, you…..you want to stay."

"That's what I said." he needed to lay down before he fell out of bed.

Boy, did Dean ever know that tone; Sam was getting cranky. "Aah, well, okay." he was at a loss, not sure what to do. "Guess, we can stay another day, but dude, seriously, get back in your own bed."

"Yeah, uh, don't really want any coffee." he went over on his side, slowly stretching out and pulling the blankets over his head. "Juice, though sounds good, leave the muffin with some water, I'll eat that while you're gone."

"Uh, I'm going somewhere?"

What the hell was wrong with Dean this morning? They'd just had this conversation! Sam peeked over the blanket, eyes wide in disbelief. Raising eyebrows to hairline sent nausea flooding through his battered-felt body. Yo! Brain to Sam here, don't be doing that again. He bit at his lip, not wanting to groan aloud.

"To get me some juice."

"Oh." Dean said stupidly. "Oh, I didn't get that."

"No pulp."

Like Dean needed to be reminded, he'd fed the kid orange juice since he'd used a sippy cup. He set the bag containing the muffin, and a glass of water with three ibuprofen on the table between the two beds. "Ok, yeah, got it, soooo, okay then, guess I'll be back." he opened the door. "And get your ass outta my bed."

"Can...you..." his ability to think coherently was fading fast. "Uh, I…."

"Can I what Sam?" he danced impatiently in the doorway, anxious to be on his way now that he had a free day to spend however he wanted. "Sam?"

"Buy...me...a sweatshirt? Cold in here."

"Buy you…? Sure, anything else? You know, new wardrobe? A car maybe?"

"No….and don't be all day neither."


	5. Chapter 5

Dean decided to walk. It was a sunny if cold day and he wasn't going far or be out for long. His first stop was the motel's office where he booked the room for another night. Then, since he was out and Sam was sick in bed, a fact he had yet to accept, he went and enjoyed a good breakfast at the town's only diner.

From there, he went to the library to research the job in Aurora that Sam felt was a lead. He didn't want Sam thinking he didn't trust him or was double checking the facts but he wanted to find out just what they were walking in to. He needed more than the article Sam had given him to read.

After leaving the library, he took his time walking back. He hadn't liked what he'd found in the newspapers from Aurora and decided to take a walk and give himself some time to think. The hunt Sam was beginning to remember had been three days prior to the day Sam had shown up at his house with Lisa.

Driving straight through from Aurora to Cicero would have taken a good twenty-four hours without stopping for anything longer than the time it took to pump gas. There had been at least three drivers, for he'd found that not just Samuel and Sam were involved in the job, Gwen had been in Aurora as well. He'd seen her in the background of a picture, though there had been no mention of her in any of the newspaper articles.

So, what happened in Aurora that caused Sam to make a bee line straight to him and finally reveal that he was alive? Dean couldn't find any proof that Djinns had been involved in Aurora, so if not the Djinn, then what had caused Sam to waste no time in getting to Cicero? He had led Dean to believe it was because of the Djinn, but what if that had been a convenient coincidence? No sense obsessing about it, he'd probably never know, after all, he only had not-Sam's word on why he'd finally decided to come for him.

The men who had grabbed him back in Somersville had wanted to know where to find Sam. Had told him Sam had taken something from them and all they wanted from Dean was Sam's location. And if Dean wasn't willing to divulge Sam's whereabouts, no matter, for they knew for a fact they could lure Sam to them by using Dean as bait. They might not know where Sam was but were sure word would reach him that his brother had been taken. How they'd known that and why they were so sure Sam would come for him hadn't been something they'd revealed.

The only conclusion Dean could come to was that whatever had happened in Aurora was what had prompted Sam to finally reveal to Dean that he was alive. Whatever it was, it must have finally convinced him he could no longer stay away from Dean.

Question was; why? Had Sam injured or killed someone and then taken an object someone wanted back? Had the possibility of someone retaliating by threatening Dean forced him to admit he believed Dean was safer with him? What would Dean have needed protecting from?

Dean kicked a stone down the sidewalk in front of him, chasing it went it went astray. Trying to retrace not-Sam's steps was gonna be the death of him, and it wouldn't be because he thoughtlessly chased the wayward stone into oncoming traffic. He flipped the driver off who had scared the be-jesus outta him by blaring its horn and kicked the stone back to the sidewalk.

He had to admit, Soulless Sam had been brutality honest with him. Sam had come to save him from the Djinn attack…he hadn't lied about that, but someone or something had sent the Djinn after Dean and Sam had found out about it in Aurora, nothing else made sense.

***000***

Dean left the mini-mart with orange juice and bottled water and walked around the block to the town's equivalent of K-mart to purchase the requested sweatshirt. Sam had never asked him to buy him a sweatshirt simply because he was cold. His request for Dean to do so made him wonder just how sick Sam was. A cold? The flu? Stomach bug? He claimed to have a headache and requested the day to sleep it off.

None of it made any sense; Sam could easily sleep off a headache in the car. Sam damn well knew Dean pulled off the road because his wrists had given him fits. Chances were the headache was a result of tension and gut-deep guilt. Nothing but time and assurance that Dean was no longer in any discomfort was going to ease it.

Sam was still wearing his over-protective nurturing apron. He would do whatever he thought it would take to prevent becoming sick while Dean was _still_ recovering from the infection that had taken him down. Dean chuckled, Sam must feel wearing a sweatshirt would help him ward off an oncoming illness

He returned to the motel to find the glass of water untouched, muffin not eaten, ibuprofen not taken and Sam in Dean's bed. What the hell was up with that anyway? Dean put the juice and water in the fridge, shucked his coat as he booted up the laptop and sat down at the table to check for emails from Bobby.

He cast a glance at the bed. It wasn't unusual for him to sleep through the familiar noises of Dean moving about the room. What was unusual was how he was curled up into a tight ball in the middle of the bed with only a mop of brown hair visible from beneath the blankets. Dean chewed on his lip. Sam had been cold enough to ask Dean to buy him a sweatshirt and Dean wasn't going to wake him up just so Sam could put it on. The room wasn't chilly, but neither would a person be comfortable in short sleeves so Dean bumped the heat up and pulled the bedspread from the other bed and tossed it over Sam.

If he was gonna sleep all day, might as well be as comfortable as possible.

***000***

"_How far away from him did you think I was? Huh Lisa? I mean, come on, are you truly that stupid? He only came here 'cause I sent him to you, did you know that? He came to you to fulfill a promise to me. All you had to do was make him happy and you couldn't even do that."_

"_That's not fair." Lisa was stunned by Sam's verbal attack. "I was here for him, I did everything I could to help him."_

"_Wasn't enough, was it?" Sam spat. "Don't you dare stand there and tell me he was happy."_

_She blinked, bottom lip beginning to tremble. This wasn't the Sam she remembered from several years ago when he'd come to town with Dean for a hunt. Dean had warned her hell would have changed him, but he had never prepared her to expect this. Not his tone, not the look on his face, not the way his lip curled up in distaste as though he found the sight of her repulsive._

"_Why do you think I'm here?" Sam continued coldly. "You can't possibly think I'm going to thank you. He was miserable; you think I didn't know that? You think I didn't know what he did? What he went through? How he dealt? I gave you time to make things right, Christ, I gave you a fucking year, but you couldn't do it. You couldn't even fill a simple void in his life, that's on you."_

_She reached out with both hands to steady herself on the back of a kitchen chair. What Sam was saying to an extent was true, but he knew Dean better than anyone ever would. He had to know Dean only accepted so much from her and never shared the part of himself that belonged to Sam. She tried to reach him, had never given up, god, how she had tried, it was not her fault he had never let her in._

"_I tried Sam, God, how I tried, you think it was easy? Trying to get him to talk, getting him to confide in….."_

"_Oh come on!" Sam scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "You would have had to put him first to ever get him to open up to you. Never could do that either, could you? Doubt he ever told you how we lost Dad or how he lost me or about his own time in the pit, huh?" he went on. "You never would have gotten him through that. Course, you didn't get him through this either, did you?"_

"W_hat do you want Sam?" she was shaking, whether in anger or fear, she didn't know. Taking a breath, she pulled herself together. She had something worth fighting for and she wasn't going to let Sam intimidate her into submission._

"_You were supposed to give him the life he'd always wanted, the one he deserved. I gave you that chance, but you just...you couldn't do it. Couldn't make him happy. If you'd managed to do just one thing right…..he wouldn't be leaving. That's your fault, not mine."_

"_He had that Sam! He has it now! He doesn't want to leave me, I don't care what you think...or what you want." she bit on her knuckle to stifle a sob. "Just walk away Sam, please? Just go and leave him here, send a birthday card, call him at Thanksgiving, come visit for Christmas, but I'm begging you, don't take him away from me, from Ben."_

"_I want him back."_

"_No." she shook her head. "No, you can't mean that….."_

"_You had a year Lisa and I'm not what's taking him away from you." Sam conceded. "But neither can I just walk away from him, I won't."_

"_You've left him before. When I first met him, I didn't even know he had a brother, it was like you didn't exist!" she knew she would lose this battle, just like she had lost the one several years ago when Sam had come looking for Dean after he'd come to tell her good-bye. Dean had Sam back and unless Sam wanted her to be a part of Dean's life, she didn't stand a chance._

"_I've always been a part of his life, whether you knew it or not." he shook his head, patience with her at end. "None of that matters, the point is, he's not staying here. When I leave, I'm taking him with me."_

"_Walk away."_

"_I can't."_

"_Dean and I can work this out Sam, we can find a way to be happy again. You can visit, I'm not asking you to never see him again, whatever happened, whatever brought you back, it can't be that bad….we can…"_

"_No."_

"_Then get out!"_

"_I'm not leaving without him."_

"_He already chose to stay with me Sam. He's told you he's not leaving me, that he doesn't want to go with you."_

"_God, you really are a stupid bitch." Sam bit out harshly. "He stayed because I let him. He thought it was what he wanted so I gave him the time to realize he was lying to himself. He wants to hunt Lisa and now that I'm back, he'll never be content to remain here and play house. You will never know him as well as I do and he will never choose you over me. You may think he has, but he didn't, I didn't make him choose. Not yet, anyway."_

"_Get out!" she ordered. "Get out now and I won't tell him you were here." she'd lost and she knew it. She also knew she would never tell Dean about the conversation despite her threat to Sam. She would never do that to him, never put him in the position where he would have to choose between her and his brother. _

_She wanted Sam gone, out of her house, away from her. She needed time to find a way to let Dean go without hurting him, without forcing him to have to make a decision, without him ever knowing she had chosen for him, without ever letting him find out what it had cost her to let him go._

"_You're dumber than I thought." Sam was at the door; hand on the knob as he turned to face Lisa. "I'll give you an hour to say good-bye, I suggest you find a way to do so, 'cause there's no way in hell I'm leaving him here with you."_

Sam jerked awake, coming up on his elbows in bed. He cast a glance over at Dean who sat at the table, arguing with the program on the TV as he cleaned guns. So ok, the odd dream had been a silent one. He eased back down onto his back and pushed his hair out of his face. His hand was slick, his hair wet, so not a dream, a memory of his soul-less self.

"Hey." Dean glanced over, hearing the bed squeak as he flopped about. "About time you woke up, slept all day. You feeling better?"

"Um….." he rubbed his forehead, taking a moment to focus. "Yeah, guess so." he might have slept all day, but he didn't feel like he had.

"Yeah? You sure? You never ate the muffin, you hungry?"

"Actually, yeah, I am." he twisted around to glance at the clock, 3:30. "Give me an hour or so and we can go out and get something to eat, okay? Pizza pub ok with you?" he sat up and reached for the muffin, glancing up when Dean sat a glass of fresh water on the table and removed the old one.

"There's a diner, had breakfast there, decent food." Dean sat down on the opposite bed. "So, you getting sick?"

"Don't think so." but he was shivering. "You get me a shirt?"

"Yeah, yeah, Smurfette or Arial?" he grinned at the 'face', taking the muffin from Sam's fumbling fingers and removing the cellophane wrapping. "I did laundry this morning….."

"Got nothing warm though." Sam broke the muffin into two and offered half to Dean. Dean accepted it even though blueberry wasn't his favorite.

"Well, now you got two." he offered Sam the ibuprofen. "You'll tell me if you're getting sick, right?"

"Yeah, I'll go shower." under Dean's watchful eye, Sam repeated his earlier slow, painful process of getting out of bed. He moved slowly, kept his eyes closed and didn't bother to straighten to his full height. Dean watched him as he fought for dominance over his coordination. Okay, so that explained how Sam had ended up in the wrong bed. He'd gotten up, hadn't been able to remain standing and remained where he fell.

"You sure you're ok dude?"

"Yeah, I'm good." he stumbled around the bed, trying to remember when he'd taken the AdvilPm. That had been, let's see, two days ago or three? Today should be Thursday. He'd gone to bed on a Tuesday after taking the pills, so two days. Hell, they'd be out of his system by now yet while his headache had eased, he still felt like he'd been used as a punching bag. He resisted the urge to check his body over for fist-shaped bruises.

"Dude, seriously." Dean watched him. "I can go get it and bring it back."

"No, no, I'm up." he went into the bathroom and closed the door. He wasn't unsteady because he was still feeling the effects of the headache. No, it was the unrelenting onslaught of memories that had him shaking as he undressed and stepped under the spray of hot water.

He'd had this headache on and off since Sunday. In fact, it had ached so badly it'd made him nauseous and he'd gone out to buy something to help him sleep. Maybe he was coming down with something, would explain the headache and why he couldn't get warm. He couldn't afford to be sick, not now, not when he finally had a lead that would give him answers. Not when Dean _still_ wasn't fully recovered; not when he tired so easily and when his wrists ached so badly that he pulled off the road and booked a motel for the night.

Once showered and dressed, and shaved with this teeth brushed, he felt remarkably better. Hoped he would feel ever better after a decent meal. He didn't know what to do about the memories that were coming back. Remembering what he had done while with the Campbell's was never easy and he might never know everything he'd done. He knew Dean preferred it that way, but he didn't know of a way to stop the memories from returning.

He hadn't actively set out to uncover anything about that year. Hell, he owed Dean some peace of mind, but if it came back to bite him in the ass, he would confront it and deal with it. He would not run away and nothing and no one was going to come after Dean to get to him over something he had done. He might not yet been able to piece the entire story together but he knew whatever he was going to find in Aurora, he wasn't going to like.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam woke the next morning feeling like he hadn't slept at all. He was soooo tired of waking up stiff and sore with his body aching in every joint. What was up with that, anyway? He constantly woke up feeling like he'd spent the night sleeping on a concrete floor after being kicked and pummeled with steel-toed boots.

He did nothing more than shove the pillow off his head and open the eye that wasn't pressed into the mattress. After a moment of trying to judge the time by the daylight shining through the opened curtains, he eased onto his back. He felt too exhausted to do anything more.

He'd felt better after dinner the previous night, had gone to a movie with Dean before ending the night at a local bar, hustling pool and darts for the fun of it. Sure, he'd had a beer or two, but he doubted they were responsible for the way he felt. If it turned out they were, he vowed to give up drinking completely, 'cause he felt like shit.

"Hey, finally awake huh?" Dean's distorted voice came floating out of the bathroom. How the hell Dean knew that baffled Sam. All he'd done was roll over; he hadn't made any discernible noise that he could recall.

"Yeah." he yawned, pushing himself up with his palms against the mattress. "Time is it?" he let his shoulders rest against the head-board, too lazy to properly sit up, letting his head loll along the wall. All he wanted to do was lay back down, pull the blankets over his head and sleep until it was dark, maybe by then he'd feel like he'd actually had some sleep and be ready to go eat dinner with Dean. He let his eyes close, wondering how his brother would react to a request to spend another day at the motel.

"After two." Dean came to the door. "How you feeling? If I didn't know better, I'd say you were hung over, you look like shit."

Yup, Sam thought, exactly how I feel too.

"Huh? What? No, I didn't have anything to drink last night. Well, couple beers is all." he yawned. "Wait, Two? Did you say two? It's two o'clock?" he frowned, working his way around to understanding what the time meant and when the meaning became clear, he realized just how irritated with Dean it made him. No, not irritated, mad. He was pissed and Dean quickly became the target of all that anger. He _knew_ Sam wanted to get to Aurora and here he was, jerking him around, _again_.

They'd missed check out, to still be in the room this late in the afternoon meant Dean had paid for another day. What the hell was his freaking problem?

"What the hell Dean? I told you last night I wanted to be on the road before eight this morning, Christ, I can't believe you!" he sat up away from the wall, huffing his annoyance.

"Now what's your problem?" Dean demanded, walking over to sit down at the table. "Geesch."

"You know I wanted to be in Aurora…..like THREE DAYS AGO! Ok, yeah, I said there wasn't any hurry, but I didn't expect you to drag your feet either."

"Yesterday was your fault." Dean pointed out mildly, engrossed with keeping the computer screen between him and Sam. "And why are you yelling at me? Calm down, dude."

"Yeah, ok, but you don't have to think I need…" he sniffed, what was that smell? He knew it, it was familiar yet out-of-place. "I don't need you to coddle…" and why wasn't Dean looking at him? Wasn't like him to hide behind a computer screen that blocked his view…..and he sure as hell wasn't scared of a confrontation with Sam…...so...what the hell?

"Dean?"

Capsaicin. He smelled the ointment and it wasn't bed time. Would also explain why Dean was keeping his eyes averted. Capsaicin stung and he always claimed it made his eyes water, a likely excuse to explain away tears.

A grunt of what could only be Dean resigning himself to admitting what he would rather keep from Sam was emitted from the obscurity of the screen.

"What?" Dean asked in exasperation.

"Do your hands hurt?" his own aches and pains and discomfort forgotten, he flung the covers back and sprang out of bed. Two minutes ago, he couldn't lift his head and now, here he was, ready to wrestle his brother into submission so he could browbeat him into admitting the truth. "Do you feel ok?"

"Sam, hey! What the…?" he jerked his head away but Sam's huge palm still found its way to his forehead. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Do you have a fever?"

"NO! I don't have a fever!" he slapped Sam's hand away. "Good God, dude, back off." he was stunned when Sam persisted with his attempt to feel his forehead and it became a slap fight between the two. "Sam, God-dam-mit, now hey...that's enou...you son-of...what the hell? Stop that!" he ducked and weaved and nearly fell out of the chair when he leaned too far to the right. He grabbed the table to keep his seat.

"Dean, sit still, I just want to see..."

"WHAT THE HELL'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?" Dean objected, getting to his feet and putting the table between them. "Get away from me."

Sam snapped. His calm, normally mild demeanor fled. He was so sick and tired of everyone putting a fucking table between themselves and him. Seriously, what good was it going to do? Like a table was going to stop him from doing what he wanted, like it could prevent him from grabbing the other person, like it offered anyone any kind of protection.

The Sheriff from Somersville, Dean, Suzie, even the rotund deputy had retreated around his desk before picking up a file. He'd had enough of it. No one was ever going to retreat behind a table on him again.

Dean jumped out of the way as the contents of the table, laptop included, were swiped to the floor and flung helter-skelter in all directions. Some scattered clear across the room, others hit the floor to be trod upon when Sam up-ended the table and kicked it repeatedly until it broke and three of the four legs were detached. The splintered remains went airborne, spiraling to all corners of the room.

"DON'T DO THAT AGAIN!" Sam yelled, foot stomping on the tabletop until it was in pieces on the floor. "DON'T **YOU** EVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

"WHOA Sammy, come on here, calm down, ok? Just calm down. It's ok." despite Sam's destructive tirade, Dean felt no fear. Whatever had set Sam off this time was no threat to him. He wouldn't say that about anyone else had someone been in the room with them though. "You ok now? Huh?" he stood with his hands held out in what he hoped was a placating gesture. "Now, come on, talk to me, don't do what again? Huh? Sam, you with me?"

Sam just stood staring at him, eyes wild with pupils blown, chest heaving, looking like the mad man he'd just acted like.

"Sam, I'm fine, I'm right here….." he'd expected to have time to talk Sam down but before he could, Sam let out a shriek and crashed to his knees, heels of the palms of his hands pressed against his forehead. "SAM!" Dean kicked his way across the littered floor to crouch in front of his brother. "Hey, hey, Sammy?"

He was reminded of old times when Sam had been hit with a particularly brutal vision that had taken him to his knees. One time, they'd been driving and Dean had barely had enough time to pull off the road before Sam had opened the door and fallen out of the car, no longer able to remain upright.

"Sam?"

Sam felt hands grab his upper arms. Heard a voice, knew it was his brothers even if he couldn't make out the words and let it guide him. He was told to breathe, to take deep breaths, to calm down, that everything was ok, but everything wasn't ok, nothing was ok!

Somehow, his head had exploded and what remained of his skull was repeatedly being stabbed with a hot spike. They weren't quick stabs either, they were violent pokes that jabbed cruelly into the soft tissue of whatever remained of his brain, lingering long enough for him to feel the hot burn that liquefied bone before it withdrew.

He couldn't see, couldn't think, _but oh dear god,_ he could feel.

Each vicious poke ripped a cry from his throat. Every agonizing breath provoked a shudder that made him shake violently. He couldn't help it, the pain was sharp and constant, so acute and unrelenting that the only reason he wasn't curled up on the floor in a fetal position was because Dean held him upright.

His senses returned without warning, slamming into him with such intensity that he was overwhelmed by the light that pierced his eyes and could do nothing but emit high pitched moans. Then came sound and smell, oh gawd, that smell….

Hands still clutching his head, he pitched forward against Dean, going limp as he head butted into his brother's chest. Without warning, he vomited as his head completely split in two. He thought maybe that was when he started screaming. Maybe it was Dean, he didn't know.

Dean cursed; he'd been in the process of trying to hold Sam upright when he'd collapsed against him. He'd never seen another human in such a state nor had he ever heard the sounds that were coming from the man in his arms. It was scaring the hell outta him.

He ignored the vomit coating his shirt and jeans and maneuvered Sam down to the floor while supporting his head. He didn't know if Sam remained conscious but Sam certainly wasn't aware of what was going on. His body was tense, so rigid Dean was scared a bone would snap if he tried to force either of Sam's arms away from his head. He was able to get him lying down on the floor but wasn't successful in getting him to lay flat on his back. Sam remained curled up on his side, head lowered, with chin to chest with his, arms over his ears, trembling so violently, Dean swore he could hear his teeth chattering.

"What is it Sam? Huh? Come on, talk to me, tell me what's wrong." he could do nothing but sit on the floor and wait and over-think. He was helpless to help his brother because he had never, in his life come across a situation like this. He had no idea what the fuck to do.

Thirty minutes. He'd give Sam thirty minutes and if there was no change or he got worse during that time, he would call 911. He cleared away anything from the floor that Sam could possibly hurt himself on then got up to pull the curtains, turn the lights out and the TV off. He'd had enough concussions and head injuries and migraines to know a dark, quiet room was sometimes the only relief that could be found.

"Hurts." twenty minutes had passed when he heard the hoarse whisper. The longest twenty minutes of his life. Dean was sitting next to Sam, one hand tangled in his hair massaging the back of his skull, the other alternating between rubbing his shoulder and hip. If nothing else, he knew from experience, a touch could be soothing, another person's presence comforting.

"How?" Dean didn't need to ask what, he knew. "Sam?" he was still shaking and when Dean succeeded in prying his hands from his head, tears streaked his cheeks and his eyes darted wildly in eye sockets plump with swelling.

"Oh, Gaa...odd." he heaved himself up onto his knees and while rocking unsteadily, threw up, this time on the floor. Dean left him alone, just laid his hand on Sam's lower back, the familiar weight an attempt to let him know he wasn't alone. "Noooooooo." he gagged, choking and knocking himself off-balance, falling against Dean who easily caught him.

"Ok, it's ok, I've got you. Come on, you can't stay here on the floor." Dean slid his hands underneath Sam's arms and gave a slight tug. If the gentle prodding wasn't enough to coax Sam to his feet and stumble the short distance to the bed, he would allow the kid the comfort of remaining on the floor until morning. He felt bad being relieved Sam was finally responding to him but he couldn't deny being grateful that he was. In no way did he want to have to take his brother to the hospital, the risks were too great.

Sam let himself be hauled from his knees, going with the tug that had never led him astray. His shin bumped against the bed and he let himself fall, taking Dean onto the bed with him. With his hands once again clutching his head, he curled on up his side as Dean wiggled his way out from beneath him.

"Hey, come on, let's get your shirt off and I'll let you be." Dean was pinching his elbow, tugging on the bottom of his sweatshirt. "One arm at a time." Dean murmured soothingly, coaxing first one arm from his head to slide through the sleeve, then the other. "Sammy, come on kiddo."

He winced at the choked off whimper.

"Ok, ok, I'll leave you be." he squeezed Sam's shoulder, an attempt to ease his distress and ebb the flow of continuous whimpers. He didn't bother with Sam's t-shirt or his jeans, only his sweatshirt had been soiled and he saw no need to cause the kid any further pain by making him undress completely.

He eyed his brother warily when he stiffened, stretching one leg out. "There's a trash can right here next to the bed...…" he sighed as Sam lurched to the side of the mattress and hung his head off the side. Well, least he'd hit the trash can. "Great."

"De…" he panted, letting go of his head long enough to drag the back of his hand across his mouth. "You…." he fell to moaning in misery. "Don't…go…"

"Sssh." Dean murmured. "I'm not going anywhere, ok? I'm right here, I'll be right here." he tossed the blankets from his bed over his brother and went into the bathroom to change, tossing the dirty clothes in the tub to soak in cold water.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean lingered in the bathroom, taking a seat on the tub side, door open so he could hear Sam should he get sick or go and fall out of bed. He needed a moment to himself to just sit and think about what to do next.

He hadn't woken Sam up to check out and get on the road because he hadn't slept well and when dawn had finally arrived, his hands still ached. Had Sam given him a chance to say so, he would have explained because he knew better than to keep how he was feeling from Sam. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, fingers massaging a pattern of circles on his forehead.

He would have told Sam he'd woken up tired, was always tired, and hadn't slept well. Might even have admitted how the cold made his wrists ache and ask if Sam could stomach being in the car smelling the cream for eight hours. But Sam had never given him the chance to say any of those things.

He didn't need this shit now. He had no idea what the hell Sam's problem was and it was taking every ounce of patience he possessed to handle the highly volatile kid. All he could do was hope when Sam woke up, he'd slept off the headache or whatever the hell it was and be able to tell him what had set him off.

"Sam?" decision made, he pushed to his feet and left bathroom. Sam lay flat on his back, spread-eagled to all corners of the bed. "Hey, feel like maybe you can handle swallowing some water?"

"Ffuff?"

"How you feeling?" Dean stood over the bed. "Sammy? Hey, I gotto go out for a bit, you gonna be ok? An hour and I'll be back, ok?"

"Mummpfh."

Dean hesitated, decided the battle to get the kid to swallow water wouldn't be worth the predictably end result, collected his car keys and locked the door behind him. He might not know what to do about Sam's violent fits of rage that came out of nowhere and were sparked by no one knew what, but he could do something about the pain his brother was in.

***000***

Sam opened his eyes to morning sunlight. He blinked the room into focus, frowning when he recognized the motel room. Huh, why were they were still here?

"Morning sunshine." Dean greeted cheerily. "How you feeling?"

"Aah, alive…..I guess." he stretched. "I'm….good."

"Yuh-huh. Long as the room is quiet and dark and you don't move."

"Pretty much, yeah." he yawned and sat up. "Guess I slept awhile."

"Like seventeen hours. How's the head?"

"Oh." he lowered his eyes, yeah, he remembered. "Sorry."

"Anything you wanna tell me?"

"No, not really." he was looking around the room, taking in the destruction. "Like what?"

"I dunno, maybe what you got against tables?" Dean remarked casually. "I'm gonna have to pay for it, you know."

"Nothing, I…..sorry." he pushed the blankets back and stood up. "We leaving this morning?"

"Soon as you're ready." Dean tossed a package at him. "Next time you feel a headache like the one you got last night coming on, take it. Dunno if it's the best thing for the headaches you're getting but it's what I was able to get."

"Where…? Dean, how did you get this?"

"Suzie." he made it sound like it hadn't been a big deal, but Sam knew better. He didn't remember Dean leaving or returning, nor did he remember taking the Zolmitriptan nasal spray, but he must have, because he couldn't deny he felt better than he had in nearly a week. Well, aside from the nasty taste in his mouth.

"Breakfast?" and there it was. Proof of how sometimes, shit went their way; Suzie calling or emailing in a prescription right when they needed it. Sam put the package in the pocket of his coat. He hadn't seen any cups of coffee or smelled any egg sandwiches and he was actually hungry.

"We'll eat on the road."

"And you're ok?" he was somewhat hesitant, causing Dean to quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're hands." Sam explained shyly, reluctant to bring up a bad subject. "You used the cream all on your own and in the afternoon and…."

"Aah." Dean nodded in understanding. So, that was what had set Sam off. Still, that didn't explain why Sam had jumped to the conclusion Dean had been feverish. "Yeah, I'm good, go hop in the shower. I'm hungry."

"Um, not that I don't appreciate the Zomig, I do, but….why the spray?" he wrinkled his nose in distaste, the god awful taste in his mouth remained. "Comes in pills."

"Cause being tossed on once was enough." Dean's eyes gleamed with the promise of unrelenting teasing when he was sure Sam was feeling better. "Comes in dissolvable tablets as well, but the pharmacy only had the spray."

"The cost…Jesus Dean."

"Doesn't matter."

"But how did you pay…" Sam shook his head. "We don't know that I'm having migraines….it's doubtful…."

"Sam, enough, it seemed to work, now seriously, go take a shower."

Sam tossed his duffel in the trunk of the car and closed the trunk. Dean had the car running, waiting for Sam to get in so they could leave. He'd felt better upon awakening, but now, a mere hour later, he couldn't get warm and his eyes were, for the first time he could remember, sensitive to the bright sunlight.

He lingered at the trunk of the car, reluctant to commit to the long drive by actually getting in the car. The horn beeped, a reminder that Dean was waiting and growing impatient over the delay in leaving. Still, Sam hesitated, finally deciding maybe eating some breakfast would help.

Man, what was it with these damn headaches? Maybe he should just tell Dean how sick he truly felt and let him be the one to decide what to do. With a sigh, he pushed off the car and walked around to the passenger door and got in. He sure as hell hoped Dean would be able to drive the entire way because he doubted he would be able to do any driving at all.

"You ok?" Dean asked, giving him a sideways glance. "Feeling ok there Sammy?

"Yeah." he dug around in the glove box. "Don't you have those sunglasses in here?" he wasn't going to hide anything but neither was he going to go around announcing it.

"Headache back?" Dean reached over to turn the radio down as Sam slid the dark shades on. "Again?"

"Sorry." he hugged himself, arms across his chest, laying his head against the window, eyes closed behind the sunglasses. "I'm good. Wake me when you stop to eat."

The eight-hour drive turned into ten due to construction. Sam more or less napped, leaving Dean to drive the distance to Aurora. Dean was discouraged, heartily cursing the inability of drivers to yield properly into one lane. He was hungry and tired and bored and somewhat concerned that Sam had done nothing but sleep mostly the entire drive.

"We there?" Sam stirred, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes. "Or we need gas again?" he didn't have to open his eyes to know they had stopped. The way the car idled told him they were no longer moving. "Aren't we later than…..we should be?" he yawned, pulling himself upright in the seat with a groan.

"Yeah." Dean put the car in park and switched the ignition off. "Two hours to yield into one freaking lane."

"And lemme guess, time to eat."

Dean gave him a cheeky grin. "Damn right it's time to eat." he nodded his head towards the windshield. "All you can eat buffet at the truck stop. Unlimited salad bar for you."

"Before finding a motel?"

"You have your priorities and I have mine, let's eat."

The diner wasn't crowded, 7:30 was rather late for the dinner crowd and the brothers took a table near the window. Not much was happening outside but it was more interesting than the diner.

"So, you remember anything about the hunt in Aurora?" Dean asked once they'd sat down and placed their order. The waitress had not been the least bit friendly, leaving Sam the only person Dean had to talk to.

"No."

"I, aah, went to the library. Did you know that hunt in Utah was three days before you came to get me in Cicero?"

"Was it?" his eyes stayed on the table, fingers busy twisting and shredding a napkin. The dream, rather the memory of himself confronting Lisa came rushing back to feed his guilt. How the hell was he supposed to tell Dean? Should he?

"Yeah, and Gwen was with you and Samuel. You all left Aurora and drove straight through. Though somewhere you stopped for the rest of your group or called to have them meet you, memories coming back yet?"

"Little."

"Really? Any of them you feel like sharing?"

"Why do you say it like that Dean? Do you think I'm keeping shit from you?"

"You said you weren't doing that anymore, right?"

"Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"You honestly don't remember anything about the hunt in Aurora? Then what are you remembering?"

"I assumed Samuel was with me, due to the reports that two agents worked the case with the local police. I don't know anything about Gwen being with us or why. I'm telling you the truth Dean." he reached for the sugar.

"Sam? Are you remembering anything?" Dean sipped his coffee, made a face and beat Sam to the sugar. Sam pushed his cup away, untouched. If it was that bad that Dean needed sugar, Sam wasn't going to attempt to try it.

"I guess. I've tried to, you know? Trying to remember everything but what memories do come back, come when they want to, with no rhyme or reason, and in no kind of order." he looked dejectedly at his abandoned cup of coffee. "I had a lot of free time while you were, aah, sick. Like I said, I started with Bristol and just started searching on-line for unusual cases. I found a lot, but something about Aurora just crawled into my brain and stuck there. I don't know why, I…well, I just don't."

"You had like two months, you just found out about Aurora what, two days ago?"

"Was Sunday when I came across the article on-line."

"Sunday?" Dean repeated. "Ain't that around the time you started not being able to sleep? And, wasn't it on Tuesday that you decided we had to go there and went out and bought a night-time sleep aid? What's up with that?"

"Dunno." he shrugged. "Had a headache, couldn't sleep, and seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Uh-huh."

"What?"

"I dunno Sam, just seems like…..everything's leading to U…..tah." he realized Sam's attention was on whatever was going on out on the sidewalk rather than on him. "What?"

"Noth-" he bolted from the table. He was across the diner and out the door before Dean could push back from the table.

"SAM!" Dean got up to follow but the waitress planted herself in front of him. It was either knock her aside or stop before running her over. "Dammit! SAM! Oh! Come! On!" he growled at the woman obstructing his way.

"Your check." she smacked her palm against his chest with the bill. It was evident she was not going to just stand aside and let him go.

"Son-of….." by the time he read the receipt, threw enough money in her face and rushed out the door, Sam was out of sight. He ran first in one direction, then the other, returning to pace the sidewalk in front of the diner with his cell to his ear, ignoring the dirty looks from the patrons inside. What the fuck was their problem, he thought as he pocketed his phone in disgust, Sam hadn't picked up.

He walked around the building, checked the alleys and side streets, walked between the parked big rigs in the parking lot, nothing. No sign of Sam, no sign of a disturbance that would have caught Sam's attention. He was heading back to the diner; phone once again to his ear when he heard a shout.

He turned around, breaking into a jog, rounding the corner when he was struck, blindsided, by a hard, solid object that knocked him off his feet and rendered him unconscious before he hit the ground.

***000***

Sam forced his clenched fists into the pockets of his jeans after striking the concrete post next to the gas pumps with his right fist until his knuckles split and blood spurted, contenting himself with kicking the trashcan over in pent up, disgusted fury. He wanted to yell and scream, punch and kick his anger and frustrations out on the unforgiving concrete post until he was exhausted but an emotion stronger than rage was overriding his out-of-control anger and tugging him back to reality. A reality that was waiting for him in the diner.

"HEY kid? You OK?"

Sam blinked, surprised to find himself on his knees. He didn't spare the speaker a glance, rising to his feet where he remained doubled over, hands on his knees, breath coming so hard, he was panting. He staggered, trying to adjust to the shift in elevation, reaching out with one hand to support himself against a nearby parked car, struggling for control of his breathing.

The man hesitated then started to walk on past, turning around when the heavy panting became heaving gasps that turned into outright hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, come on man." he moved over to stand in front of Sam, reaching out to assist him, dropping his hand when the younger man shrugged away. "Jesus man, calm down, come on, walk it off. Hey, come on…..yeah, that's it." encouraged by the kid's positive response, he took hold of Sam's elbow and gently prodded him into a shaky walk. "Sweating to the oldies." he joked. "Let's get your heart rate down, come on."

Sam stumbled at first, but after taking several steps, was able to follow the man as he walked completely around a big rig with its trailer attached. A human touch, even if it happened to be a stranger, had a calming effect. He needed to gain control and focus so he could return to Dean, even if that meant he had to accept the help of a stranger.

"You got someone here with you? Wife, maybe?"

"Um…..yeah." he ran his hands through his hair. "Oh." he frowned, wondering where Dean was, had thought by now, Dean would have followed and caught up with him. "No wife, I mean. Aah, my brother….should be…um…here….I'm ok, thanks."

"Didn't take you for a driver." he gave the kid a grin, unsure about leaving the young man alone. He was still pale and shaky and the knuckles on the kid's right hand were bloody and swollen. "Fight huh? Over a lady?"

"No…no."

"Well, then…why don't you go inside, grab a coke. Take some time to pull yourself together. Guessing you got the best of the guy. Went and laid him out flat, huh?"

"No." Sam shook his head, amused smile escaping. No matter how angry he got, he would never lay a concrete post out, it was a fight no man would ever win. "Just venting some anger, better to hit a….wait, what?"

"Oh, the guy out cold around the corner, just assumed…HEY!" he jogged after Sam as he ran off. "Kid?!"

"God, please, not again." he prayed out loud as he ran, vaguely aware of the trucker following some distance behind him. "Let him still be in the diner, please, don't let it be him, please, not again….Dean!" Sam pushed through the throng of onlookers. "Let me through!" he pushed and shoved without regard to man or woman, not letting anyone stop him from fighting his way through the crowd to see if it was his brother laying on the ground in the middle.

"Hey dude, back off!" someone pushed him back and Sam swung, not caring if the grunt of pain when his fisted connected came from the person who'd shoved him or not.

"DEAN! No, no…..no, no, no, not again…..DEAN! What the hell?"" he threw himself to his knees, grabbed his brother's arms and pushed his head up by a fist under his chin. "What happened? Are you ok? Jesus Christ Dean!" he shoved him away, held him at arm's length while he looked him up and down then pulled him close, almost but not quite, a hug.

Dean was sitting up, one leg raised, elbow resting on bent knee. He flinched when his personal space was invaded, but didn't pull away. He might be disoriented but the scent of cedar assaulting his nostrils and the wavering blotch of brown in front of his watery eyes assured him it was his brother who was kneeling in front of him.

"Hey Sammy." Dean licked his lip. "You came back, huh?"

"I never left." he grabbed hold of Dean by the elbows and stood up, hauling Dean to his feet as he rose. "We gotta get outta here."

"Aarrghh!" Dean let loose with a cry. "Not so fast." he winced, knees buckling. "Ow, Sam…"

"Come on, we gotta go." Sam ducked under Dean's arm and slung that arm across his shoulders. "Walk it off, come on…..hey." he steadied his brother's weight when he stumbled. "Dean, we can't stay here."

"Just…gimme….." he let his head lay against Sam's shoulder. "Need ….a…min-ute."

"We don't have a minute, come on, cars just around the corner." he urged. "Dean, move."

"Sam! A freaking minute!"

"Can't." Sam hefted more of Dean's weight across his shoulders, wrapping his arm around his brother's waist. "Just lean against me if you hafta, but we gotta go." he felt a twinge in his hand. He was gonna have to check his fingers and wrist for broken bones or dislocated joints but it would have to wait until they were tucked up in a motel room. "They're here."

"Who's here?"

"I saw him in Somersville Dean."

"Saw who?"

"He was right here in the parking lot. He was here Dean, _right here!_"

"Sam…who? Who was here?"

"The guy from Somersville!"

"What guy? What the hell are you talking about?" his clouded senses magically cleared and he stumbled to a halt, unwilling to go any further until Sam gave him an answer. "Sam?"

"The night I was looking for you, I'd gone to the bar and was out in the parking lot, trying to decide if it was worth my time to go in and he came out. Three men came out of the bar, three men Dean, and he was one of them. That can't be a coincidence." if Dean didn't start walking, Sam was simply going to sling him over his shoulder and carry his stubborn ass to the car.

"Seriously? You expect me to believe you recognized some guy through a window on a crowded parking lot you glimpsed coming out of a bar, at night, over two months ago? Yeah right Sammy."

"I remember the face of every person I laid eyes on in that fucked up town." he argued heatedly. "I was looking for you Dean, you were gone and I couldn't find you. Trust me, there's not a detail I miss or a thing I forget while I'm looking you, not when you're missing." he tensed his muscles, bent at the knees and shifted Dean's weight so he could toss the ass up and over his shoulder.

"Ok, ok, ok, calm down." Dean let himself slump against the solid warmth that offered both comfort and security. He'd learned while recuperating; the best way, the only way, really, to get Sam's one-track mind off its current destructive course was to guilt trip him into worrying more about Dean than anything else. "Just….ow."

"Ok, ok, okay, sorry, come on, let's get outta here and get checked into a motel, get you cleaned up."


	8. Chapter 8

Sam stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection as he held his hand under cold running water from the sink faucet. He blinked, watching the swirls of red turn pink from the effect of cold water on his bleeding knuckles He rubbed his forehead with his other hand, still shaking with the utter panic that had barreled into him when he'd hauled Dean up from the ground and had yet to show signs of abating.

Dean - who had been too groggy to continue to argue with Sam.

Dean - who had been so groggy he hadn't been able to help Sam, who had taken three tries to find this motel with a kitchenette.

Dean - who had fallen, opened the bloody door, and _fallen_ out of the car to stumble into the room and collapse across the bed.

Dean - who had been knocked out and nearly taken by the same man, or men, that'd snatched him two months ago.

Dean - who was oblivious that curious gawkers were the only reason he hadn't been taken _again_.

Dean - who was skeptical that Sam had recognized the man but Sam knew he had, dammit, he knew!

Dean - who was currently too senseless to know what to do with the cold, wet towel Sam had given him and had yet to move or ask after Sam's bloodied hand.

All he wanted to do, what he stood in the bathroom and fought against, was go find the man he'd seen not half an hour ago, three blocks over. He didn't need confirmation or proof that the man he'd seen out the diner window pumping gas into a green pick-up had been one of those involved in snatching Dean from the Sheriff's car in Somersville.

Sam splashed cold water on his face and turned the faucet off. He stifled the urge to leave and hunt, and after bandaging the worst of his knuckles and popping some ibuprofen, he was ready to go out and deal with the man who was just now beginning to moan and groan.

He glanced at his watch, surprised to see he'd been in the bathroom over an hour. He cursed; pushing his hair back, unhappy that he'd left Dean alone and ignored for the time it had taken him to gain control. Well, nothing he could do about it now.

He lingered in the doorway, watching as Dean slowly came to his senses, waiting for him to become fully conscious before approaching the bed and man-handling him into allowing Sam to do more than the rough probing of Dean's temple and skull he'd managed in the car. Sam hadn't wasted further time to look him over for extent of injury, wanting to be safely away from the diner and now that they were, he was going to thoroughly check his brother over, from head to toe, whether he liked it or not.

"Lemme see." Sam hovered over the bed, staring down at Dean whose forearm was draped across his forehead. Dean moved his arm slightly to peer up at him with hooded eyes. "Hey, come on, let go." he tugged Dean's hand from his face by his elbow, not his wrist. "Dean?"

"I'm good Sam." Dean sighed, letting his hand fall to the mattress. "Your hand?"

"Is good." he sat down on the bed next to Dean. "Open up." though Dean hadn't been coughing or spitting up blood or mucus, normal signs a person had lost a tooth, the lack of evidence of a lump or knot or bruise along his forehead or temple didn't mean he didn't have a head injury.

His determination to go out and track down the green pick-up truck must've been left in the bathroom because all he could think about after seeing how pasty and tired Dean looked, was doing whatever he could to ease whatever pain he was feeling.

"Jesus Sam." Dean allowed Sam to flash a light in his eyes, feel for a pulse, check his ears and for a third time, card his fingers through his hair. "I'm okay."

"I need to know that myself, not just hear you say so." Sam said shortly. "What hit you?"

"What did you hit?" Dean countered, seeing the bandaged fingers.

Sam didn't answer. "You seeing okay? Vision blurred?"

"No…..leave my nose alone, you ass." he swatted lamely as Sam's hand. "Not leaking any blood or fluid outta my ears or nose Sammy. My eyes responded fine to the light, now lemme alone."

"Headache? Does it hurt? Feel sleepy or nauseous?"

"No." he scowled, then choked with Sam poked a finger in his mouth. "Yigh…hain't,,,gawt,,,nah….oose…neethe."

"You look like shit." Sam announced. "You sustained a head injury just two months ago, you….." he sighed. "Yeah, ok, you're right, I can't find anything wrong, so here, take 'em with some water."

"Since when do you want me to take aspirin?"

"Tylenol for a fever, ibuprofen for aches and pains and aspirin for headaches."

"Uh-huh, and what great doctor of the world did you get this from?"

"No signs of a concussion, can't feel a lump, you sure you were knocked out?"

"Briefly." Dean pulled the pillow over his face, still lying on his back. "I'm gonna sleep, you….you stay here, you hearing me?

"Yeah, Dean, I hear you." he didn't move. "Dean, do you know what hit you?"

"No, never saw anyone, never heard anyone, didn't see a thing." he turned on his side and disappeared in a cocoon of blankets, confident that no matter how badly Sam wanted to leave him and go off half-cocked on a hunt for a green pick-up truck, he wouldn't leave Dean alone.

Sam remained on the bed, knee jouncing in agitation, causing the bed to shake and Dean to stir at the motion. Sam got up and paced the room, he'd run off after a truck he'd no hope of catching on foot while his brother was being knocked out and dragged off. He wouldn't make that mistake again, there was no way he was going to let that happen a third time.

***000***

"_What'sa matter there Sammy? Got nothing to say?" he taunted. "Betcha you're thinking ain't nothing I can say that's gonna matter to you." the man gave him a calculated look, judging how far he would have to push Sam before he got the reaction he wanted. He'd already tried threatening the lives of Samuel and Gwen but it hadn't brought the reaction he'd anticipated. Sam simply hadn't cared._

_Sam sighed, keeping his expression bland, face giving nothing away. He'd all but worked his hands free from the rope that kept his arms bound behind his back. This guy really was a dumb, lazy prick who couldn't tie a decent knot or keep his attention focused where it should be. He was also too stupid to have left when he'd had the chance and he further proved his stupidity by continuing to taunt Sam._

"_Now what would you say if I said I was thinking of taking a drive, to say, oh now, let's see, how about Cicero?" he taunted in delight. "That's in Indiana, ain't it?"_

_Sam's eyes met those of the man who, for the moment held him captive. He didn't bother to deny how hearing that affected him and for the first time since he'd woken up tied to a post, his veneer showed a crack. "I'd say it would be the last thing you ever said." he said calmly, voice flat. "I'm warning you, don't threaten him. If you go anywhere near him, if you even dare pass him on the street, I promise you, not only will I gut you alive, I will kill everyone in your pathetic family."_

"_OOooohhh-wweeeeee, struck a chord there, didn't I? A raw nerve, hmmm?" he preened about in front of Sam. "Yeah, that's right Sam, since you don't seem to care about the lives or well-being of your partners, how about I pay a visit to your brother? I know all about Dean. I know where he is; the town, the street, the house number. So what say you give back what you took from me, what belongs to me and I'll keep the whereabouts of big brother Dean to myself. _

_Sam glared._

_"I haven't shared that bit of information with the others, well, not the others with me anyway, not yet. Course, can't say I can the same about—others-who've been looking for him. If I have to go after him I won't be able to keep that to myself. Don't wanna hafta fight Dean all by myself, after all, I'm not suicidal."_

_"Yeah, you are." in one fluid motion, Sam was on his knees, knife in hand and before the man even knew Sam was free, one flick of a wrist buried the knife in his shoulder. "I hope you were telling me the truth when you said you were the only one who knew where he was cause if I don't find him in one piece…." Sam viciously yanked the knife out and plunged it into the man's stomach, blade up. "I will go after everyone that's ever mattered to you and I'll be sure to tell them why they had to die."_

_He rose to his feet and pressed the heel of his boot against the wound in the man's shoulder. "You think about that as you lay here bleeding out, dying. Should take two, maybe three days before you draw your last breath."_

"_Wait! You can't just leave me here like this!"_

"_You'll grow weak from loss of blood, weaker yet from the cold and dehydration, the pain will be agonizing, you will go numb, lose all feeling, until you finally succumb. You'll die knowing I could have buried that knife in your heart, killing you instantly but I didn't. You will die helpless and alone, unable to save those you love, knowing that if you lied to me, your family will experience the same pain and suffering you're feeling because of what you did."_

"_NO!NO!NO! Please, I'm begging you…."_

"_I warned you __**not **__to threaten him."_

Sam woke with a jerk, lurching upright so quickly, he hit the floor between the bed and the wall. He remained sprawled on his back, one leg twisted painfully beneath him, the other entangled in the blankets on the bed. He listened, but Dean didn't call out or pop up over the mattress and Sam blew his breath out in relief his ungraceful thump to the floor hadn't awoken him.

He laid where he was, shaking with chills as the sweat dried, thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad to spend the remainder of the night right where he was but after another five minutes, discomfort forced him to untangle himself and crawl back into bed.

Another memory, the ones coming back all had to do with the hunt here in Aurora. Sam didn't remember who the man was he'd left to die a horrible slow and painful death but he sure as hell knew why he'd done it.

Didn't know what, if any, connection he had to the three men who wanted to find him. Didn't know what he'd taken the man wanted back, didn't know if that act was what had the three men after him now, didn't know whether or not he had gone after the man's family, didn't know why he could never remember anything that was useful.

He was nearly asleep when his befuddled brain clued him into the heavy breathing and aborted soft snorts coming from the other bed. Almost as if the bed's occupant was having difficulty breathing.

"Dean?" he rolled onto his side and switched on the light on the table between the beds. "Dean? Hey, wake up." he tossed a pillow towards the other bed but other than a snuffle, got no reaction from his brother.

Should have stayed on the floor, Sam thought as he got out of bed and poked at Dean's hip until he rolled onto his side and his noisy breathing ceased; couldn't hear as much from that location. He lay back down, mentally rehearsing the argument he was going to present in the morning to persuade Dean to temporarily hold off on researching the hunt and track down the green pick-up instead.

When Dean woke up the following morning, he rolled onto his back and yawned, rubbing both hands over his face to rub his eyes and scratch at his jaw. His startled yelp brought a towel-clad Sam, toothbrush clenched between his teeth to the bathroom doorway.

"Dean? You ok?"

"Aww, shit!" he dropped his hands, receiving a whistle muted with toothpaste from Sam. "It bad as it feels?"

"Ouch." Sam grinned. "Got one hell of a bruise there, dude." he stepped closer with a frown. "And some swelling."

"Don't touch me." Dean warned irritably. "I tolerated you poking your finger around in my mouth last night, go away."

"Yeah, ok, I didn't find any teeth loose. We can stop by a store after breakfast and get you an ice pack. I wanna talk about last night while we eat, okay?"

"Sure, you shower?"

"Yeah, all yours."

"You, aah, seem to be doing okay." Dean remarked optimistically. "You holding it together ok?"

"I'm good."

Dean was starving until the hearty breakfast he'd ordered was set in front of him. His appetite fled with the waiter. He picked up his coffee, wincing when his jaw twinged when he parted his lips.

"Dean?" Sam was staring at him intently, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Nothing." he cut into his eggs and began to eat, doing his best to ignore the ache that had set up camp below both ears. "So? We're here, where do you want to start?"

"Thought I'd cruise around town looking for a green pick-up truck." Sam held a hand up when Dean opened his mouth to argue. "Dean, I know what I saw. They are here. I only saw one, but I'd bet my life that all three are here together. Whether they followed us or came here on their own doesn't matter. My guess is once we turned up again, they picked up our trail."

"And what Sam?'

"Jesus CHRIST Dean, they KNOCKED YOU the FUCK OUT! If there hadn't been such a huge crowd, they would have taken you, AGAIN! How am I supposed to accept any time you're out of my sight, you could disappear?!"

"Okay, okay, jeesh, calm down. Sam, come on." Dean wisely refrained from pointing out Sam was the one who had let him outta his sight. "They are obviously tied somehow to the job you did here with Samuel, maybe we should just stand our ground and confront them."

"You up to that?"

Another failed attempt to drink had him scowling. "Okay, maybe tomorrow. Today, let's talk to the police, maybe find some of the witnesses you or Samuel interviewed. See what people remember."

"Fine." Sam said tersely. "But we are not splitting up." his eyes narrowed as Dean cut his eggs into ridiculously small pieces. "Dean, you're drooling."

"Eggs are good." he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand only to be admonished by Sam to use his napkin.

"I want you to do me a favor." Sam was still staring at him in that way that always gave Dean the creeps.

"What? Sam, I'm not in the mood to play games…"

"Open your mouth for me."

"Say again?"

"Your mouth, open it, wider…yeah, that's what I thought." Sam reached for his wallet and dug out a twenty that he tossed on the table. "Hurts huh?"

"Sam, cut me a break. I got blindsided by…..ok, by I don't know what, but it knocked me off my feet, yeah, my face is gonna hurt awhile. Do you see the bruise?" he whirly-whirled his hand in a circular motion to encompass most of this face. "Duh!"

"You aren't hungry, are you? Come on, I pretty much bet you ain't feeling to good either."

"My face is swollen Sam, even my tongue is, of course it's painful. I'll keep ice on it while we're in the car, let's go."

While Dean would have preferred to return to the motel and spend the day in bed, he drove to the local police station, leaving Sam in the car while he went it to begin their investigation.

He didn't feel better as the day progressed, in fact he felt worse. He kept silent about the increasing pain along his jaw and below his ears. Was able to keep from Sam that opening his mouth brought tears to his eyes and speaking more than one sentence at a time caused uncontrollable drooling and his words to slur. Neither aspirin nor ibuprofen eased the pain or his stiff neck and ice no longer helped the swelling. Every time he sat down he got dizzy upon rising and it took longer each time for his vision to clear.

He was at the house of a fourth witness, Sam out in the car, when dizziness struck him while he was still seated. His hostess looked at him in concern, offering him a glass of water that he managed to hold, but was unable to drink. She hadn't thought to include a straw, why would she? The bruised, swollen jaw elicited her sympathy, but produced no knowledge that he couldn't open his mouth enough to drink from a glass.

He felt overly warm and he couldn't stop his bottom jaw from trembling. He leaned forward to set the glass on the table, raising the napkin to dab at the drool on his lip when the taste of blood in his mouth incited his stomach to roil.

"Sir? Sir?" a distant voice was calling repeatedly. "I say sir, are you alright?" she stared at him in dismay when, in the process of trying to set the glass down, he missed the coffee table completely and slumped forward, striking his temple when he fell face first into the table, crashing to the floor in a heap amidst magazines, spilt water and potpourri from an upended dish on the table. "Oh dear…hello? Yes, I need an ambulance…"

Sam was across the street in the Impala when he heard sirens in the distance. At first, he paid them no attention; it was only when they got closer that he looked up and peered out the window looking for signs of a fire or accident.

He saw the red EMT truck first; it rounded the corner and headed down the street towards him. It was turning into a driveway when the ambulance came up behind him from the opposite direction. It too, pulled into the driveway before it finally registered to Sam, that the driveway where both vehicles were now parked belonged to the house Dean had entered thirty minutes ago.

"FUCK!" he was out of the car, across the street and up the steps to the front porch before being stopped by a police officer. Sam had no idea where the man had come from; there was no police car in the driveway or on the street. He must have come with one of the emergency vehicles.

"Sir?"

"That's my bro-partner, he's my partner." he visibly fought for control. He was scaring the police officer with his obvious effort for the man rested his hand on his gun but didn't un-holster it. "What's going on? What happened?"

"Mrs. Ridge, the home owner called 911 after the FBI Agent collapsed."

"Can I see him?" Sam tried to push past but the officer blocked his entry into the house. "Let me through."

"Sir, it would be best if you waited until he's been transported to the hospital."

"Hospital?" god, he couldn't lose it now. Not now, not here in full view of the gathering crowd out on the sidewalk, not in front of a police officer who would then arrest him. If he were taken into custody, he wouldn't get to Dean for hours. Dean would wake up in a hospital, alone and confused and vulnerable, a sitting duck to whoever wanted him. "Why? I mean….ok, ok, but please, can I just see him? I need to know what happened. Was he shot or stabbed or otherwise attacked? Just let me see him, please, just for a moment then I'll follow the ambulance to the hospital."


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm sorry, say that again?" Sam stared down at the barely 5'6 doctor until the poor man took a step backwards, tugging uncomfortably at his tie. "You want to what?"

"Hold him overnight for observation." the doctor licked his lips nervously, casting his eyes about wildly in hope of attracting the attention of a nearby employee who could contact security.

"Why?"

"The blow to the head….."

"There's no concussion." Sam had the opportunity to see Dean before the ambulance left and while Dean had been somewhat responsive to him, he hadn't been to the EMT's. Of course that would have been reported to the doctor at the ER. "He didn't lose consciousness from striking his head on the coffee table."

"He's confused, Actually his level of disorientation is alarming." the doctor said. "The deformity of his face, along with the extensive bruising and swelling and the symptoms both you and Mrs. Ridge reported he was exhibiting, strongly suggest a fractured or severely dislocated jaw."

Sam went white and he could feel himself begin to shake. He'd been able to stave off the impending melt down at the house and he needed to do so again here with the doctor. He just needed another ten minutes. Christ, why hadn't it occurred to him that Dean may have suffered an injury other than a loose tooth or a concussion?

"Since when would that be considered a severe enough injury to require admittance to the hospital?" by pinching the bridge of his nose, he was able to blink away the black veil that insisted on encroaching on his vision.

"He can move his jaw, is able to grind his teeth, can bite down and his teeth appear to be aligned but he had trouble holding a tongue depressor and he is in considerable pain. X-rays should be able to tell us the extent of the injury. If they are inconclusive, after a period of rest, we will send him for a CT scan to determine if surgery is…"

"Wait….period of rest? You mean, he's staying? He's not staying." was what he heard in the midst of the doctor blabbing about resting after x-rays. For the love of God, where the fuck were these headaches coming from?

"As a matter of fact, he is. I'm sorry sir, but as his partner, and your concern is commendable, you have no say in the decision. He's unable to give us his name and we haven't been able to crack the unlock code on his phone. Perhaps you know how to do so or you'll be able to tell us how to contact his family."

Sam seethed. Hands fisted, all he could do was stare the doctor down in muted fury. He wasn't known here as Dean's brother. Everyone saw him only as Dean's FBI partner. No one would tell him anything nor had they allowed him to see Dean.

"Twelve hours." Sam managed to say and even though he thought he was being civil, it must have come out in a threatening tone, for the doctor retreated yet another step. "Give him twelve hours, see if he is coherent when he regains consciousness and is able to answer your questions. He has an uncle; I'll try to reach him. If you aren't happy with the response you receive from him in that time, then you do what you feel you need to."

That would give him enough time to contact Bobby and arrange for him to fly in. It would also give him enough time to plan an escape should one became necessary. He'd go out to the car and get his computer while Dean was in x-ray.

Once Dean was through whatever tests the doctor insisted on running and was settled in a room, nothing and no one was going to keep Sam from being with him. He was not about to let his brother out of his sight until he could spring him from the hospital.

"That would be a psyche consult if the tests come back negative for a definitive head injury. We would also then give the local police authority to try to locate any family members."

"Agreed." Sam nodded. He felt a bit better now that he had a plan and an immediate course of action. "May I see him? Perhaps a familiar face will help calm him down and help him remember."

"When he's settled in his room, I'll send a nurse to take you to him."

***000***

"Bobby? Hey it's me."

"Well hell boy, 'bout time one of you called to let me know you lived." Bobby said peevishly. "Why are you whispering?"

"Bobby? How fast can you get your ass to Aurora, Utah?" Dean cut in.

"Why no, Dean, I'm not doing anything, nice of you to ask. I'd love to drop everything and come to Utah. Big Mormon population out there, I understand. Is the pie really that good?"

"What? No, shut up, need a favor Bobby."

"Course you do." Bobby sighed. "Not like you ever call just to say hi. Sure, sure, what is it this time?"

"Need…you…here."

"Are you drunk? You're slurring your words boy. Where's Sam?"

"Dunno, finally gone crazy, maybe. Hell Bobby, maybe I'm the one going out of my fucking mind! I dunno."

"Well, just let me hop right on my flying broom and I'll be there in no time."

"Closet airport is Provo, airplanes must fly into it, get yourself on one."

"Now just a minute Dean." Bobby growled, ready to lay into him for his assumptions Bobby had nothing better to do than drop everything and fly at a moment's notice to do his bidding. Before he could say another word, he heard background noise over the phone that sounded suspiciously familiar. "Dean, where are you? Everything ok?"

"Dunno."

"Why again, am I flying to Utah?"

"Cause Sam's scaring the shit outta me. He's falling apart Bobby, constant headaches, always cold, can't sleep, seeing things, fits of rage and oh yeah, he's gone." Bobby had just convinced himself the younger man was drunk when the next words he heard had him on his feet. "Aw, I gotta go Bobby...nurse is coming."

"Now Dean…" Bobby began calmly then stuttered. "Nurse? What nurse? Dean, don't be tellin' me you're in the hospital."

"ER. Thought Sammy wudda sprung me by now...but he ain't here and the doctor said I don't have a brother, that I only have an uncle…they don't know I'm awake and I dunno what the hell's going on…...I haven't seen Sam…..just get here."

"Okay, but why did you call me and not your brother? Hello? Dean…." Bobby stared at the silent phone in his hand. He didn't know whether to be amused or angry that he'd just been hung up by an obviously confused and drunk Winchester. With a sigh and a curse, he tossed the phone and began throwing some clothes into a bag he could carry on the plane. Those boys were gonna be the death of him, if it wasn't one, it was the other.

He was at the computer, searching on-line for flights from Sioux Falls, SD to Provo, UT when his phone rang. He picked it up somewhat distractedly. There were no direct flights, most had more than one stop and all were outrageously expensive. Hell, he might as well drive.

"Halloo." he shouldered the receiver and pecked at the keyboard with both forefingers. "Talk to me."

"Hey Bobby."

"Sam?"

"You got a minute?"

"For you, always. What's up?"

"Um, we're in Aurora, Utah. Thought maybe you could, if you weren't busy, maybe come out here and join us."

"Everything ok?"

"Not really. Closet airport is Provo, but it's cheaper and easier to fly into Salt Lake City. I used your credit card to book you a flight and there's a rental car under your name at Alamo when you land."

Bobby muffled a wry chuckle. The glaring difference between the ways the brothers requested his presence never failed to amuse him. He closed the open screens on the computer, no need to waste any further time looking for what Sam had already taken care of.

"Sure Sam, now tell me what's wrong."

"Dean, eh, got jumped in the parking lot of a truck stop."

"And?" Bobby prodded. "Ain't you with him?"

"By one of the guys who took him in Somersville." Sam continued. "They may all be here, but I only saw one."

"You saw? How do you know you saw one? You never saw them in Somersville nor did you recognize any of them from your brother's description."

"Cause the night I was looking for him, three men came out of the bar I was told I'd find him at."

"And now you've seen one of those same guys in Aurora?" Bobby said doubtfully. "Sam, you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Is Dean okay?"

"No."

"Okay, ok, don't go getting all upset." Bobby didn't like how calm Sam was, he was too calm and it scared the hell outta him. "Gotta be honest Sam, Dean called me ten minutes ago, he was rather confused, I thought he was drunk. Claims you ain't there and…"

"We were working a job, he was interviewing a witness from a hunt I did with Samuel when he passed out on the lady he was talking to. Seems his bruised, swollen face and the fact he was bleeding from his mouth prompted her to call 911. So, no I wasn't with him, trying to stay out of sight of anyone I'd have come into contact with when I here before."

"So?"

"So, everyone thinks I'm his FBI partner, not his brother, I told the doctor I would contact his uncle, that'd be you." Sam was growing impatient. "They haven't let me see him yet."

"What have the doctors told you might be wrong?"

"They suspect a head injury; took him for x-rays to determine if his jaw is fractured or just dislocated. The swelling is so severe they didn't want to make a diagnosis before x-rays. If they're inconclusive, they'll take him for a CT scan."

"I see, I see, okay, you need to hold it together ok? What time does my flight leave?"

Sam hung up from talking to Bobby and took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room. No one had come near him and he'd spent enough time in hospital ER's to know the wait to hear back from a doctor or be told it was time for visitation could take hours.

He set the laptop he'd retrieved from the car under a chair and settled back to take a nap. Dammit, how could he have missed such an injury? How could he not have recognized the obvious signs his brother portrayed? How could he have not seen the pain he'd been in? How the hell had he been able to ignore Dean growing worse throughout the day?

Easy. He'd been so obsessed, so preoccupied with searching for signs of a concussion and loose teeth, he'd never even thought of the possibility of a fractured or dislocated jaw. Had been more interested planning how to hunt down the green truck and force a confrontation than being the caregiver to his brother he needed to have been.

Of course, common sense told him even if he had discovered such an injury, Dean still would have had to seek medical assistance. Sam could easily pop a collarbone or kneecap back into place, but he'd never attempted to set a dislocated jaw and he wasn't about to do so now. The difference being, Sam would've been able to declare himself Dean's brother and wouldn't be facing any of the obstacles now in his way.

That was if, IF, his jaw was merely dislocated and not fractured. What the hell was he going to do if the x-rays showed that Dean's jaw was broken? What if he needed surgery? How the hell was he going to convince Dean to sign consent? He couldn't sign, Bobby had yet to arrive and talking Dean into having his mouth wired shut for six to eight weeks wasn't going to happen without some form of physical coercion.

A broken jaw would require Dean to remain with either him or Bobby 24/7. Yeah, Dean could easily handle cutting the wires himself should he get sick and be unable to squelch the need to vomit, but no one should have to go through the trauma of doing that to one's self.

Dean had been impossible to live with when Sam had forced him to submit - and it had taken force - to leaving his hands splinted. Both he and Bobby had made it through some of those days with a shared bottle of Jack while depending on the strength of the other to prevent them from giving in to Dean's demands to be released from those, 'god-damn-fucking-shoe-horns'.

Even if the fracture was minor and wires weren't needed, coercing Dean to eat soft foods and exist mostly on a liquid diet would take the combined efforts of Sam and Bobby and possibly involve the use of handcuffs to restrain him. Sam winced when the irony of that scenario slapped him upside the head.

No trip to the ER was without risk. It was why they avoided the hospital at all costs but when they had to go, it was best they didn't arrive in an ambulance, announcing to all they weren't who they said they were and having the actual authorities called.

Thirty minutes passed before he got up to take a walk. Thought maybe despite the fact he was neither hungry nor thirsty, having a destination in mind would give him something to do other than beat himself up over missing a possible broken jaw. He'd go get a juice and sandwich then talk a walk outside. By the time he got back, Dean should be in a room and he'd be able to see him.

That was the plan…he didn't recall when he strayed from his plan.

Sounds of heavy, heaving pants of spent energy were what Sam first became aware of. He blinked, blank stare focusing on his outstretched hands before sliding to the wall, the sink, the floor, methodically searching for the source of the noise; gradually clued in to the fact, he was alone in a bathroom and was responsible for making the sounds he was hearing.

Wires protruding from a gaping hole in the wall, the assaulted air dryer now lying on the floor, mocked his inability to remember beating it until he'd ripped it from the wall. Blood splattered across the wall, over the sink and along the smashed mirror. He didn't remember entering the bathroom let alone wreaking the destruction he now saw, his last memory had been his decision to go the cafeteria.

He turned the cold water on. The pain in his right hand told him he'd really done a number on it this time. He was missing most of two finger nails, the skin from both sets of knuckles and he suspected his thumb was broken. Was hard to tell really, the rapid swelling in his entire hand was pretty extensive.

He felt the beginnings of a, being-reduced-to-screaming, headache coming on and knew that this time, there was no way he was going to be able to prevent it. There was no doctor or police officer he had to hold it together in front of. His hand would have to wait; he needed to get out of the bathroom before he was discovered.

He forced himself to walk back and retrieve his laptop then walked directly out to the car where he climbed into the passenger seat and pulled a package of Zomig from his pocket. He'd be fine, could sleep here in the car and let the medicine have all the time it needed to work. If he was reduced to screaming and puking, no one would be around to witness it. Wasn't like Dean would be coming to look for him, he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

He was dimly aware that his hand was throbbing and he roused enough to throw an arm over the seat to search for the ice pack Dean had discarded earlier. He was beyond the ability to retrieve the first aid kit from the trunk and bandage his hand properly yet knew if he didn't want to be scrubbing blood from the upholstery of Dean's beloved car, he needed to find something to wrap his hand in.

Black dots obliterated his vision until he could see nothing, not even blurry outlines or distorted colors so his when fingers came into contact with something soft, he snagged it. Bringing his clumsily wrapped hand up to hold against his chest, he slumped in the seat against the door, letting his head rest against the cold window.

His last coherent thought was he needed to be awake in two hours so he could go see Dean. His last thought was; as many times as he felt he and his brother benefited from other worldly guidance, it was times like these when he was convinced he and Dean were the pawns in some wild game between two opposite beings. To the winner of the round went the fate of the situation the Winchester brothers found themselves in. He was guessing their 'being' had lost this round.


	10. Chapter 10

_Sam caught the raised arm bearing a cudgel as it descended towards his head. His fingers bit cruelly into the wrist of the man wielding the stout wooden club and twisted the arm until with a grunt of pain the man dropped his weapon and was driven to his knees. "I told you, warned you to just leave my brother alone."_

_"Ain't been nowhere near him." the man grinned up at him evilly. "Yet, 'sides, what's the big deal Sam? Everyone knows you don't care about Dean no more. Been back months, haven't called him, haven't gone anywhere near him, hell, betting he don't even know you're back breathing."_

_"Stay the fuck away from him."_

_"Oh yeah? And what you gonna do about it I don't?" the man lunged at Sam. "You took something that belongs to us, we asked you nicely to return it. You didn't see right to do so, so we did some digging, wasn't hard to do, word here, whisper there put us on to who and what you are. Wasn't all that hard from there to find out about big brother Dean." despite the constricting grip on his arm, he stabbed wildly with his opposite hand, aiming for Sam's thigh with its vulnerable femoral artery but willing to settle for drawing blood anywhere he could make contact._

_Sam had had enough. First the asshole who had threatened Dean just two hours ago and now this dumb prick. No one was going to get in his face and use his brother against him. In fluid motion, no hesitation at all, Sam blocked the arc of the swinging hand, relieved the man of his knife, flung the captive left hand against the wall and stabbed the knife through the palm, nailing it to the wall._

_"You wanna play that game?" he ignored the man's cries and whimpers and fought for his right hand. "Dean is mine, and no one is going to take him away from me. Your buddy, Carl's his name, right? He didn't wanna listen either." he slammed the heel of his hand into the man's chin. "SHUT UP!"_

"_What are…." the man gasped._

"_Do the same for you I did for your pal, someone finds him in time, he might live." Sam pulled his own knife. "Course, can't make it too easy for you to get yourself free." he wrestled the man's right hand to the top of a nearby table, forcing him to bend forward awkwardly and pried his three middle fingers from his clenched fist. _

_S_am was brought back to the world of discomfort, not by pain or nausea nor the sensation of bleeding, but by the persistent ringing of his cell phone. Only moving his left hand, head remaining against the window and his eyes closed, he dug his cell out of his jacket pocket and blindly thumbed answer.

"Hello?" he could still hear the sickening plop of the knife cutting skin and layers of muscle and tendons, sawing on bone and he wiped the sweat from his face with the crook of his arm. God, had he seriously cut off a man's fingers and left him impaled to a wall?

"Agent Smith, yes?"

"Aah, mmm, who? Oh….yeah, yes." he didn't recognize the voice and he'd yet to open his eyes to look at the number on caller id. "What can I….do for….you?" he finished lamely, unable to pull himself out of the stupor the migraine meds had reduced him to.

"This is Nurse Jennigan. I'm calling for Dr. Tremble, he is treating your partner here at Gunnison Valley Hospital."

"Oh. Oh yeah, yeah, right. How did you get this num….?" he vaguely recalled leaving his number with the front desk at the ER before leaving to retrieve his computer from the car. "Oh, right. So uh, so what?"

"Are you still here at the hospital sir? The doctor would like to speak with you."

"Aah, oh yeah, yeah I'm….no, oh ugh, an hour, I'll be there in an hour or so." this couldn't be good. Not good at all. "I had some business to take care of, I'm on my way."

"ER." she advised and hung up.

Sam dropped the phone, pushed himself up and away from the support of the door, failed to gain his equilibrium and fell onto sideways across the seat, somehow managing to avoid smacking his head against the steering wheel. He gave up and closed his eyes, he needed at least another hour of sleep but would settle for the minimum time it took for the car to stop jouncing him around and set itself to rights.

Having been told he had no say as to the care or treatment Dean was to receive, he hadn't expected to hear from the doctor. A peek through slotted eyes at his watch revealed he'd been asleep a little over an hour. While he didn't feel better, he was quite confident he'd be able to function. He made a mental note to call Suzie and thank her for the prescription, without it he would have been discovered on the bathroom floor and undoubtedly committed to the psych ward.

Holding his head, he slowly sat up and dug around the backseat until he found a package of cookies and a bottle of water. Dean wasn't going anywhere, he needed to eat something and pull himself together. He took another five minutes to properly clean the blood from his hand then wrapped it up with gauze and bandages. Wasn't fancy but it would do until Bobby arrived and took a look at it.

***000***

"Drew, dammit man, I'm telling you, they are both here, both Winchesters, I…."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"One minute Dean was alone, the next we were surrounded by a crowd of people, Sam was there before I had a chance to grab Dean. Whatever Drew, they are both here and they are together."

"Together huh? What makes you say that?"

"Cause Sam came and got Dean and they left."

"Christ, you're serious." Drew said slowly, finally accepting Toby's words as truth. "I…want that bastard dead Toby, after what he did to Carl, leaving him to die like that…and what about Donald? Huh?"

"Look, all I'm saying is I was able to get close enough to Dean to knock his ass out but I wasn't able to get him away from Sam. They got in that car of theirs and left."

"Maybe finding Carl sooner would have saved his life, we'll never know. He managed to tell us who did that to him and we've been looking for Sam Winchester ever since." Donald joined the conversation. "If he went to ground with this brother, would explain why we haven't been able to find him."

"Yeah, so what the hell are they doing here?" Drew asked.

"You sure you wanna go up against both of them?" Toby asked uneasily. "I mean, we've learned a lot about them both while trying to find Sam, he's supposed to be the easier of the two to deal with, the calmer, kinder one, Dean….well…we recently found out he's no longer out of the game…and I…dunno how he can be worse than Sam, but..."

"You call what Sam did to Carl, to me, to the town of Aurora, kind?" Donald stood up. "What he took from us?"

"I'm saying what we've learned about them this whole time we were looking for him." Toby countered. "People said Sam wasn't himself when he wasn't with his brother, now that they're back together…."

"We had Dean back in Somersville and you let him get away." Drew pointed out. "That was our chance and you blew it."

"Let him get away? The man broke through a cast iron pipe Drew, who the hell ever thought he could've done that? Huh? With those wrists torn all to hell? Maybe you should look to yourself and admit he wasn't as weak and broken as you thought he was when you left him."

"Enough!" Donald barked. "People in this town, innocent people, died because of him. He killed Carl, left him to die a slow, painful, horrible death. Threatened his family, destroyed the well that kept the town prosperous and healthy. A human sacrifice or two a year was nothing, the townspeople chose someone no one would miss. The bastard burned this town to the ground with no thought or regard to the women and children in his way. I want him dead and the stone he took from the well returned and restored to its rightful place."

"It was hard enough when he was with the old man." Toby still felt the need to argue against what he considered a suicide mission. "You saw what he did…and Dean, outta the game or not, ain't no one I wanna tangle with."

"You find him, you get that stone and then you kill him." Donald ordered, swinging his coat around his shoulders and sliding one arm at a time through a sleeve. "And if Dean gets in the way, ain't gonna cry if you take him out too." his left hand bore two crippled fingers and matching scars on both the palm and the back of his hand. His right hand sported a thumb, three stumps and a pinky. "Seeing as how he wigged out every time Dean was brought up, maybe we should waste Dean just to do it in front of Sam, see how the hell he likes that."

***000***

Sam walked around the parking lot several times before heading towards the hospital, trying to clear his head and gain stability, not wanting to stagger into the ER. It was his desperate need to get to Dean that enabled him to contain the pain sloshing against his skull. He needed more time to sleep or at least lie down in a dark, quiet room but the driving need to know Dean was ok gave him the inner strength to push his misery aside and surge onward.

Knowing he would be getting no respite for some time yet, he checked for messages from Bobby but found none. He sent out a prayer that Bobby had made the flight and entered the ER. His slim hope he'd be able to sit down for a few minutes while he waited for the doctor were dashed before the door closed behind him. Two steps into the building and the doctor was coming out a door to greet him.

"Hello Agent Smith." the doctor greeted. "Were you able to contact your partner's uncle?"

"Yes, he's catching a flight into Salt Lake City, he'll have to drive from there." speak slowly, listen, avoid looking directly at the lights, concentrate, focus, no fast or abrupt moves; he coached himself and you'll be able to have a conversation

"Good, very good, however, Agent Smith, common enough last name, I suppose, shall we agree to call him Dean?" he waited for Sam's nod before continuing. "Dean remains groggy and disoriented. I do believe he has advised us that we have his consent to discuss his case with you. He keeps referring to you as his brother."

"Yeah, we're all, uh, good friends. So, he's awake?"

"Goes in and out but the important thing is he's mostly coherent when awake. Knows his name, where he is, why he's here, he keeps asking, no - demanding to see you."

"Yeah."

"He's back from the CT scan….."

"X-rays failed to reveal the extent of the injury, huh?"

"Correct, the CT scan revealed, despite the swelling, his jaw is merely dislocated."

"Thank God!" Sam breathed with a wince. "So, no wires and no surgery? Good."

"Still, it is a painful injury and we need to reset it, pop it back into place. We administered a muscle relaxant, Robaxin is fairly strong, should be strong enough for a man of his size but….not in his case."

"Doubt it would be." Sam sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aah, can try Ativan, it usually works, well, when he'll let it. He…..has a tendency to fight sedation."

"Well, I suggested sedation, I just want to help him relax and stay calm, but he….."

"Didn't like that idea either, huh?"

"Not at all." the doctor nodded. "So, I thought perhaps anesthesia was the best way to go. He does not want to be awake and tense and fighting me when I pop that jaw back in."

"Annnnd, that was a no-go as well." Sam guessed and the doctor nodded his agreement. "He'll fight going under. Will take something strong enough to take down a horse to get him out and you don't want to be around when he starts to come out of it." Sam gave the doctor a rueful grin, aware that the doctor had few options. "Fair warning, he won't stay under nearly as long as you think he will either. Nor will he go under as deep as you want him too."

"Do you think his uncle will be able to talk him into accepting at least the sedative?" the doctor sighed. "He insists he doesn't need anything, but I…."

Sam chewed on his lip, desperately wishing for toothpaste and mouthwash. He eyed the doctor, mentally weighing how much he should reveal about his relationship with Dean. "Aah, look, I've known him for years, been through more than one injury with him, I'd say I know him as well as his uncle does. Let me talk to him and I'll get him to agree to anesthesia. It's not like you're using general anesthesia, right? Just a local?"

"Yes, but I don't see how….."

"Trust me, the best alternative here is to put him under and you'll be able to do it easily if he doesn't fight it."

"And you're telling me he'll willingly take sedation if you talk to him first?"

"I can get him to agree to anesthesia if you prefer. He mostly dislikes it because of how he comes out of it. A local should be enough but if you find you have to go with a regional, you'll probably have to give him something for nausea."

"I can anyway. Alright then, right this way." the doctor began to walk down a hallway. "He's in a room and resting comfortably. We want to wait a period of at least four hours before attempting any form of sedation or anesthesia, better for him that way. But don't worry, he's in no pain or discomfort."

Dean did not want to do anything. He didn't want to move or talk or listen or think. He wanted everyone to go away and leave him alone. He knew where he was and he wasn't happy about it but he was too tired and felt so weak that he just couldn't get up the gumption to demand his clothes and order his release. Bed was comfy, pillow was soft and though he knew where he was, he was a little fuzzy on the reason why. He was in some discomfort, no outright pain but he knew he would feel a lot worse were he to get vertical and go gallivanting about.

"Hey Dean. You awake?"

Right. The doctor wanted him to do something. Wanted him to agree to…..to what? What the hell was it again? More tests? He'd already been to x-ray. He'd called Bobby before he'd been wheeled off for a CT scan, with the doctor talking about muscle relaxants and sedatives. Had been given a shot before he even knew a needle had been in the vicinity of his neck. That was when his patience had fled and he'd finally flipped out, demanding to see Sam. Looks like he'd gotten his wish.

"Get me outta here." Dean ordered drowsily. He thought he was giving his best patent, 'don't mess with me, just do as I say' look but apparently, if Sam's indulging smile was anything to go by, he hadn't pulled it off.

"Can't." Sam said coming closer to the bed. "And we're not arguing about this, I'm not up to this Dean, I'm just not, my head is killing me and Bobby's on his way but he'll be another couple of hours, so man up, shut up, take the sedative and give me some peace."

"Give you…? What the…..? Sam!…It's not broken you know, just have him pop it back where it belongs and get me outta here." he had to admit, he would sound a lot more authoritative if he wasn't breathlessly slurring his words.

"Don't want a sedative? Fine."

"Sam….." he warned. "Don't you dare…what're you doin'? Hey, no…no,no,no,no….." he batted at the mask that suddenly loomed over his face. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, did you agree to have me knocked out? You fucking prickkkkkk."

"Please?" he begged softly, eyes blinking rapidly that, when he wanted them to be, were moist. "Dean? I gotta lie down, so…do this for me, 'k?"

"NO!" he forcefully knocked the hand holding the mask away and started to sit out. "Jesus Christ! It's a fucking dislocated jaw Sam."

"You've never had one before." Sam reminded him. "And stop yelling at me."

"What the fuck difference does that make? What the hell's the matter with you? Since when are you a wuss about shit like this? You shudda just done it yourself."

"Ambulance ride Dean." Sam reached out, suddenly needing physical contact with the one person who kept him grounded. "You passed out, fainted, whatever…you never do that, you shake off everything…..broken leg, concussion, you never submit to pain and you did and…you were alone…..I wasn't with you and I've never…just please…I'm begging you…for me….just allow this, this once, okay?"

"Here?" he was momentarily distracted by Sam's unusual display of affection. "Since when do they administer anesthesia here in a room?"

"Since I'm five seconds away from hitting the floor. Just go with it, okay?"

"NO!" he swung his legs off the side of the bed. "Get outta my way, I'm leaving. Bobby's on his way, he can do what you don't have the balls to."

"Two months Dean." Sam whispered. "What I did to you, put you through...you don't have any idea how hard that was on me. I can't do that again...God, what I've had to do...what I've lost and overcome and still face...these headaches are fits I can't control...I can't take you home and go through...it again...I can't."

Dean teetered for a second then flopped sideways on the mattress, offering no resistance when Sam pushed him onto his back. His glare at his weepy-eyed brother promised retribution then the mask descended and his world went black.


	11. Chapter 11

Dead did not want to wake up. He hadn't wanted to be put under in the first place just to have a dislocated jaw reset; had told Sam he could withstand the pain of having it done without any pain relief at all. But Sam, good ole Sam, his eyes had turned from hazel to brown then gone all soft and watery. His face, already chalky, had shown deep lines of pain and fatigue etched around his mouth. His eyes had been webbed-red and circled with dark shadows; eyes that had pleaded with Dean to just give Sam this, to trust him, to let him help do what he could to make Dean feel better. And Dean, big sap that he was, had allowed him to have his way, again.

He lingered between states of waking up and remaining under, let his mind wander, float, search for and settle on whether or not to be awake. He was cold, could feel himself shivering, felt sick, like his stomach was attempting to crawl out of his body via his throat. At some point, he seemed to have swallowed his tongue and his cheeks had swollen to hamster-like proportions. When something cold and wet swiped across his forehead and cheeks, he turned his face into the soothing coolness with a groan.

"Oh, I think his eyes just twitched?"

"Really? Or just wishful wanting?

"No, no, truly, I saw his eyelids flutter."

"I bet they are blue, glass marble blue."

"Brown. With those freckles, brown."

Dean heard two female voices chattering but they were far away. He wondered who they were, why they were with him, and why it mattered what color his eyes were. Where the hell was he anyway, that women were with him?

"Brown? Maybe, we could peek, no need to wait for him to wake up."

"Did you see those scars on his wrists? His partner said he got them from a good sex act gone bad."

That did it. His eyes opened, no twitching, no fluttering, no blinking, just popped wide opened and focused on the two nurses who stood side by side, leaning on the raised bed rail on his right side.

"Ooooh." cooed the blonde. "Green, hi ya handsome."

"The hospital?" Dean tossed his head back to his pillow in disgust. "Gre-eat, what the fuck…?" the ambulance ride, being strapped to a gurney and Sam telling him to relax and go with it for the time being. He remembered waking up in the ambulance with an EMT, the siren wailing. Right, he'd passed out in some lady's living room.

He wanted to ask questions, demand to be given a phone, wanted his clothes so he could dress and leave the hospital, walk back to the motel or take a cab if it was too far to walk. He was in a room, not an ER bed, a room which meant he'd been admitted. Sam had allowed him to be admitted. Where the hell was he anyway?

"How are you feeling?'

Dean didn't answer, took some time to think about it, let his eyes close and tried to sort out just what kind of situation he was in. Wondered how much time had passed since he'd been taken to x-rays. He frowned; he also remembered having a CT scan. Oh, yeah, the doctor believed Dean had broken his jaw. He immediately opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his teeth and lips and tried to lick his chin. And he remembered it all, Sam and the argument over whether or not to allow the anesthesia to set his jaw. The nurses laughed at him.

"Don't you worry doll, it's not broken, simply dislocated. The doctor already popped it back into place."

Opening his mouth had been a mistake the nurses should have warned him against. Had they actually been doing their job rather than discussing the color of his eyes, they might have. His jaw ached, felt twice its normal size and he could feel the swelling back to his throbbing ears. He didn't feel good at all, good lord, all this from a dislocated jaw?

It was Sam's fault he felt this way. Sam who had talked him into accepting anesthesia; Sam who always had to have his own way. Dean chose to conveniently ignore the nagging inner voice that taunted him Sam's own way usually benefited Dean.

Well, that explained the IV in his arm. Sam would have had some type of antiemetic administered to help with the nausea coming out from anesthesia. Sam. Where the hell was he anyway? He raised his head from the pillow to look about the room, the voices that had been so clear and near, were now distorted and distant. His vision took his hearing with it when it fled and he didn't fight the blackness that crept over him.

"AAAwwww." the blonde pulled a pout. "He…"

"Something I can help you with?"

She jumped, whirling around to stare open-mouthed at Sam who had come to the doorway. "Er, no, no, I just…."

"Are you his nurse?"

"No, just…I'll go now." she wasn't about to stand around and argue with the look being directed her way, she was glad Sally would be the one to deal with this guy. "See ya Sal."

Sam stood aside and let her pass on her way out of the room then turned his attention to the remaining nurse. "You his nurse?"

"Yes."

"Has he been awake?"

"Briefly."

"Any nausea or discomfort?"

"Er, no?"

Sam tilted his head, irritation flickering across his face. "No? You don't know?"

"He wasn't awake long." she said hurriedly. "He….we didn't expect him to wake up at all this soon and he was….."

"I warned you he wouldn't go under easily, wouldn't stay under as long as you thought he would and would come out of it quickly."

"Guess you know him pretty well, huh?"

"Could say that."

"Well, if you need anything, ring his bell. I'll pop back in a bit later."

Dean woke up again less than an hour later. Again, two women were hanging on his bedrail, talking and giggling and whispering, having no clue their chatter was what brought him awake. He stirred uneasily, head lolling on the pillow, once again feeling nauseous and dizzy.

"Hi ya." Sally greeted. "How are you feeling?"

Dean didn't answer, turning away when she offered him a spoonful of ice chips. Great, now he was going to do battle with the persistent nausea until either he or it won. Sally injected something into his IV then resumed her conversation.

"Sam?" Dean asked hoarsely. "My bro…er,…partner?

The girls shared a look and giggled, parting so Dean could see between them, Sam slept in an armchair that if needed, could be folded out into an ottoman or sleep position.

"Poor thing has a migraine." Sally explained. "Said he took something earlier, been sleeping most of the day."

Dean didn't care how Sam felt or what his problem was. He was in the room, in sight and that was enough. He wasn't out chasing down green pick-up trucks or trying to work the case on his own.

***000***

There were times when Jerry really didn't like his job. The female nurses he worked with were either old and set in their ways or young enough to be struck silly over a man like the one currently inhabiting room 312. Nothing ever happened in this hospital, this town, this county - a missing derelict or drug-addicted loser who were never found didn't count - so when a handsome stranger with a dangerous, alluring air about him was admitted, it was bound to stir excitement

The most excitement ever, had been a year or so ago, when what turned out to be fake Fed's had come to town and half a block of Aurora had burned to the ground. The ER had been busy that night; there'd been victims from the fire, a guy who lost three fingers and been stabbed through the hand and who could forget the dude who had died from being gutted. He'd been DOA and the doctor declared the stab wounds, for there had been two, deliberately inflicted to cause a slow death from bleeding out.

Oh well, he was on break and though he didn't care how good-looking or how well-built the guy in 312 was, he decided a look-see for himself was in order. It was a small hospital and the gossip spread quickly and reached everyone. Everyone was in such a twitter over the most recent admission - another Fed - that it might just turn out to be the most excitement to come along for another year.

"Okay, okay, he is not your only patient." the man in scrubs stood in the doorway and clapped his hands, the two nurses giggled, causing the man to frown. "Beth? Dear God, this isn't even your floor!"

"I'm on break Jerry, geesch, take a chill pill why don't you?"

"Go back to work." Jerry ordered. "On your own floor, who's watching your patients while you're up here ogling this poor chump? And you Sally, is he your patient?"

"Yes Jerry, he is." she stepped away from the bed and Jerry got his first glimpse of the man sleeping in the chair on the other side of the bed.

"What the…." he sputtered into stunned silence. He walked around the bed to take a better look but was rooted to the spot by the steady hostile, murderous gaze that was scrutinizing him from the bed; an intent glare that promised swift action ending in violence if he took one more step towards the chair. Wow, what a penetrating look. Those green eyes didn't miss a damn thing and the expression on that stony face issued a clear warning.

This guy, who by all rights should still be completely comatose, was awake and alert and clearly protective of the man asleep in the chair. Jerry was to approach that chair with the expectation of his bones being broken if not his life ended. Chills skittered down his spine and he wilted under that unblinking stare.

"Sally, go get him another blanket, man's laying there shivering, what are you, blind? And get him some ginger ale. He shouldn't be awake this soon but since he is, before he upchucks all over the bed, get him some fizz to help settle his stomach. However did you manage to graduate college?"

Once both girls had departed, Jerry retreated to the bed leaned over the rail. "Who the hell are you?"

"Beg your pardon?" Dean managed. "Me?"

"You. Him. What are you doing here? Are you stupid? Is he? He barely made it out of town last time he was here! The destruction he caused? The deaths left behind?"

"You know him?"

"Like, yeah! My God, can't say I was happy about what he did, well, not what, more like how he did it, but can't deny since he did it, there's been no more mysterious disappearances either."

"You know what he did?"

"Not exactly, I just know he was here with his partner. Old bald guy who brought him in, he was treated for smoke inhalation, minor concussion, cracked rib then he just took off."

"Aah, do you remember what happened back then?"

"Only what was in the papers and on the news."

"You sure about that?"

"Why is he back?"

"Unfinished business."

"You're his new partner? Guess that explains why you're in here. Everyone around him either heads up hurt or dead."

"Yeah, yeah, but…..he didn't do this to me and I don't even know why I'm here."

"Dude, you broke your face on a tire iron or something as hard. Doctor has no idea how you didn't break bones or get your teeth bashed in. Your cheek bones, by right, should have shattered and your jaw splintered, you got one hell of a hard head."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me what you know about what happened the last time he was here."

"Half the town of Aurora burned to the ground. Fire was deliberately set. Guy was found gutted, he'd been stabbed in the shoulder and the stomach and left to die…took three days for him to bleed out. The medical examiner determined he'd been conscious and aware until he died. He was later identified by his brother, Donald Novak, family has a farm on the outskirts of Aurora."

"Donald huh?" one of the men who had grabbed him back in Somersville had been called Don. "Did he uh, have a crippled hand?"

"Two of them. Missing three fingers on his right hand, and his left had some nerve damage; dude couldn't straighten out his pinky or ring finger."

"Any idea how he got like that?"

"Said he had an accident with a knife."

"Bet he did." Dean murmured. One wielded by a pissed off soulless Sam, no doubt.

"Yeah, see thing was, the police know the fire was set, they just don't know why. People died, couple kids from smoke inhalation. An accelerant was used, the fire spread rapidly and was resistant to water, they had to call in a chemical truck from the airport."

"And somehow, this all ties back to my partner?"

"Yeah."

Sam was awake, listening to Jerry tell the story and it all came rushing back.

He'd left the abandoned barn where he'd left Carl to die and gone straight to find his three cohorts but had only found Donald. He needed to leave town and drive to where he'd find his brother and hadn't bothered wasting time looking for the other two.

He had delayed their departure by leaving Donald nailed to the wall but a fire would have ensured enough devastation and destruction to give him ample time to get to Cicero and thwart whatever attempt on his brother's life Carl had set in motion. With any luck, it would also give him enough time to convince Dean to go back on the road with him and no longer be an easy target.

Sam felt sick, felt the bile rise in this throat. God, he wished he could remember everything he'd done while soulless. Such as why he'd left Dean on his own for almost a year, yet went absolutely ballistic whenever someone had dared to threaten him. He had killed innocent people, perhaps some of them children simply because he'd wanted to get to his brother before anyone else did.

Guess that explained why he had ruthlessly torn Dean away from the life he'd had with Lisa. God, did he ever have manipulation perfected; both himself and not so much himself, either way, he always got what he wanted and it didn't matter who got in his way, who he hurt or how he hurt them.

He swallowed convulsively, trying to remain still and quiet so the other two men wouldn't know he was wake as he recalled the last phone conversation with Lisa he'd ever had. Her despair and capitulation now made a lot more sense. He'd never understood her willingness to just let Dean go and let Sam have him. She'd no idea Sam hadn't been himself the first time he confronted her and Sam doubted, no, he knew for a fact, Dean had never told her how he'd first come back.

"_Lisa, god, I'm sorry, I am so sorry, I am…really. But what he needs, who he needs….it isn't you." Sam whispered. "I never meant…ok, maybe not…..but….I wish he could have both, I do…if there was any way I could make it happen, I would. You have to know that. It's just…you're not the one, if you were…I mean, I would know Lisa, I know him better than anyone ever will. You….just aren't…..if you were, he never would have left to come with me."_

"Look whoever you are, you'd be wise to get in your car and get the hell outta this town. Too many people will remember him, they know he's no Fed and is responsible for what happened."

"Okay, do you have any idea why he did all….that?"

"Because they threatened you." Sam pushed to his feet. "I remember Dean, remember it all. He had me in an old barn, wanted back a stone I took from a well to, ahh cease its offering, long story, I'll fill you in later. He told me he knew someone else was looking for you, that he knew where you were, if I didn't give him back what he wanted, he'd go find you. He said the others with him didn't know where you were but I didn't wait to find out if he were lying to me."

"He who? The man you gutted or the man whose fingers you kept as a fucking souvenir? You're saying…..you…..all they did was verbally threaten me?"

"Dean…don't, just….don't."

"Dammit Sam! Come on!"

"I left both of them an opportunity to live." Sam weakly defended his actions. "How you feeling?"

"Why am I here?"

"Observation."

"And you allowed it why?"

"If you'll recall, I wasn't with you when you decided it was a good idea to taste Mrs. Ridge's potpourri and nose-dived into her coffee table, knocking yourself out."

"Right, the ambulance, but Christ, I…."

"And, everyone here knows me as your FBI partner; I had no say in anything."

"So, I'm guessing we aren't making an escape until morning."

"Dean, gimme a break. It hasn't even been two months since….your hands. You've been sick; anyone can tell that just by looking at you. Doc says you're ok …..another attempt to stress me out."

"Yeah, I always set out to do that."

"Whatever, you wanna go now? Fine." Sam tossed his jeans and shirt on the bed. "Get dressed."

"Still got that migraine? You look like shit." Dean was tired and groggy but he stood up, jeans in one hand, IV impeding his movements as he had second thoughts to leaving. He might manage to walk out of the hospital and perhaps even drive as far as the motel but there was no way he would be able to drive further than that and by the looks of Sam, he wouldn't be able to drive even the short distance to the motel.

"Now see here." Bobby was all bluster and impatience, standing in the doorway. "What's this? Dean, get your wobbly ass back in that there bed. Where the hell you think you're going?"

"Outta here to the motel." he fumbled with shaky hands for the left leg of his jeans. "Shit, where….damn."

"NO!" the jeans were snatched outta his hands. "Sam, what ails you? Stop putting stupid ideas into his head and if you ain't the one doing it, then he's doing it on his own and you outta knock some sense into him."

"Bobby." Sam cracked a grin. "Hey, got here ok, then?"

"Yeah, came straight here, tired though, what say you and I go grab something to eat and let Mr. Charm here get some sleep." he pointed a finger at Dean when he opened his mouth to argue. "You shut up and lay down. We'll come visit you in the morning and see about springing you."

Upon sight of Bobby, Dean visibly deflated and all defiance fled. So did his ability to focus and once his defense mechanisms abandoned him, his body succumbed to the aftereffects of anesthesia. Sally didn't make it back with his stomach settling fizz and it was Jerry who held the basin while his stomach weakly rid itself of its meager contents.

"No." Sam said stoutly. "I'm not leaving him alone like this! What if they…"

"Sam, no one knows he's here." Bobby began only to be interrupted by a rapidly growing frantic Sam.

"YES THEY DO!"

"Not here in the hospital they don't. I believe you Sam, believe you saw them here. The evidence is right there in that bed. Dean's safe here and I know you don't like to let him outta your sight, but give the man some privacy to get through this. Look, we'll just go get something to eat, ok? Then we'll come back, or I will and you can go back to the motel and grab some sleep. You look worse than some of them corpses I've done dug up."

"Uh, Bobby?" Dean wanted to warn Bobby about Sam's fits of rage and debilitating headaches that seemed to strike when he didn't get what he wanted but his stomach clenched and racked his body with shudders so severe the bed shook and all thoughts of easing Bobby's way with Sam deserted him.

"He'll be ok." Jerry assured them. "I'll have the doctor paged and see if we can increase the Zofran. We'll deal with any side effects should any occur. Do you remember me?" he asked Sam.

"No, should I?"

"From when you were here before? No? Oh, well…"

"Aah, head injury…..memory loss." Sam shrugged. "Long story, it's why I'm back, trying to fill in some blanks."

"Once we get him settled, he's going to sleep. We'll keep an eye on him, I'll see if I can get Sally moved and take him on as my patient. Small hospital, shouldn't be hard, okay? Come back in two hours. See how's he doing then."


	12. Chapter 12

**** Sorry for the delays in updating, but wow, time just goes. Had to hump North on good ole Rte 15 into the hills of Pennsylvania to visit my Mom!

Then husband had school, then covered a co-workers shift, all which means, he's been home hours he normally works, with me. Ho-hum, just what I needed, a bored-home-during-the-day husband for nearly two months.

And work? At $4.00 a gallon for gas, who'd have thought people would be buying cars with 8 and 10 cylinder engines? Thankfully, so far, April has been a calmer month and I'm back to working part-time. ****

* * *

><p>"No." Sam said stubbornly. "I'm not hungry…."<p>

"Too bad, because I am." Bobby adjusted his hat. "What'd ya do to your hand? That's the worst half assed job of wrapping I've seen."

Sam lifted his hand and gave it a look. For being done left-handed while in the throes of a rage induced headache, under the influence of a strong med, he rather thought he'd done a decent job. "It's fine."

Dean managed to roll his head on the pillow and look over, his attention now called to the bandaged hand he hadn't previously noticed. He attempted to speak but his teeth were chattering and Jerry inserted a spoon of ice chips as soon as he parted his lips.

"Waught'ya'ooo?" came out as one syllable that to anyone else would have been indistinguishable but Sam shook his head.

"It's fine Dean. Cement post remember?"

Dean's eyes narrowed; his jaw, unhappy it had not been the victor in the skirmish with his stomach, was being an extremely sore loser. Dean kept trying to raise his hand to cup his mouth and Jerry kept pushing it away. Sam's hand hadn't been bandaged half way up his arm with no sign of his fingers that…morning had it? He scowled at his inability to remember what day it was and how many had passed since they'd spent the night in whatever town and whenever it was they'd set out to start interviewing.

"Tham?"

"It's not fine and neither are you." Bobby said brusquely. "Come on, there's a diner just across the parking lot. Let's go eat, give Dean some time to overcome what ails him."

"No."

Bobby sighed, shuffled his feet and dug deep for patience. When the kid dug his heels in and balked, nothing and no one got him moving. He knew from experience Sam wouldn't respond to threats or ultimatums and any attempts at coercion and persuasion would only waste his breath.

"Fine." Bobby shrugged. "Here, catch." he tossed the empty water pitcher from the bed stand towards Sam's face. Sam's reaction was delayed and offered little resistance to the plastic container hurling at him. He stepped sideways but it struck him in the shoulder and he hadn't raised either hand to deflect it. "Yeah, what I thought."

"You take any of the Zomig today?" Dean asked quietly. By remaining flat against the mattress, despite its slightly elevated position, he was able to coax his tongue to cooperate. He expected Sam to lie and deny it but it wouldn't matter, Dean knew the truth. Having only taken it twice, it was rather soon to expect Sam to be showing symptoms from any side effects but he was sluggish and too dazed not to be under the influence of something

"Zomig?" Bobby jumped right on that. He knew what Zomig was, just didn't know how or why Sam had it and was taking it. "Where the hell did you get meds like that? Why? What the hell have the two of you been doing since leaving?"

"Go get something to eat." Dean ordered tiredly. "Then go back to the motel and sleep awhile."

Sam dug at his eyes with his knuckles. "Dean, they've proven they aren't stupid, they could….."

"Hey, you put me here." he was pulling the blanket up to his chin, unable to stop shivering. "Lemme sleep this off."

"I did not put….." Sam began stoutly. "…you here." he forced himself to breathe in through his nose and exhale through his mouth in an attempt to keep his temper. "You landed yourself here. You could have told me…."

"You admitted me, now deal with it." Dean cut him off. He didn't feel good at all, cold and shaky. Since his stomach for the moment appeared willing to remain quiet, he was eager to close his eyes and see if he could sleep.

No one had paid Jerry any attention but at some point, he'd stepped from the room because he was now coming through it, armed with a blanket, can of ginger ale and a capped syringe.

"Okay now, here we go." he set the syringe and can down on the bedside table and shook the blanket out. "Gotta say Sam, you were right about the antiemetic, would hate to have seen how he did without it, but then, you aren't like you were last time you were here, now are you?"

"Aah." he shrugged helplessly.

"Whatever." Jerry said good-naturedly. "This guy is gonna sleep." he picked up the syringe, pulled the cap with his teeth and retrieved the IV port. "Come back in the morning, you'll see, he'll be feeling a lot better."

***000***

"Donald, I dunno about this." Toby decided it was worth one more try to talk sense into him and Drew. "You know how Sam was when all we did was threaten to go after his brother, what he did….and now he has his brother with him and he knows that we went after Dean…..that's all kinds of different. When we grabbed Dean back in Somersville, it was to get Sam's location outta him, last resort was to draw Sam to us."

"What else can he do to us?" Donald questioned. "Kill us? I don't plan on letting him get the opportunity to try. All we need is Dean and we'll have Sam right where we want him."

"And we get Dean, how?" Toby asked. "We've called the three closest hospitals, no admittances under the name Winchester, no admittances with a head injury in the last twenty-four hours. We called every motel in the phonebook, same results."

"Yeah, like Sam can't take care of his brother himself." Drew spoke up. "Those wrists were toast Toby, yet we never found where he'd gone to a hospital for treatment. If Sam could tend to that, he can deal with a concussion, that's saying you managed to give him one."

"Knocked his ass out cold." Toby said defensively then sighed. "Dunno, man sure does have an inhuman ability to deal with pain and heal quickly. I dunno, it's like the injuries aren't as severe on him as they would be with another person, you know?"

"Now it's time to go looking for that car. Can't be hard to miss." Donald said. "Gotta be in a parking lot someplace, Drew, you start with the motels in Salina. Toby, you take the clinics and hospitals, we'll find him and settle this once and for all."

***000***

Jerry had expected Dean to sleep through the night. Lulled under by exhaustion and held there by the mild sedative Sam allowed to be administered. Either it hadn't been strong enough to knock him out or he was successfully able to fight it, because every time Jerry peeked in on him, his eyes would open and focus, then drift closed when he recognized Jerry and no one else appeared behind him.

The Zofran had the desired effect and he was keeping both water and ginger ale down, willing to drink whatever and whenever Jerry offered it to him. He didn't really want it, but knew he had to walk out of the hospital come morning and if he couldn't, nothing he did would prevent the freak-out Sam would throw.

"You hungry?" Jerry asked. "Can get you a pudding cup or some crackers."

"Does your shift ever end?"

"Oh yeah, but dude, I remember your partner, ain't no way I'm gonna do anything to get him pissed at me. Nuh-uh."

"Actually, he's my brother and he's not the same person he was last time you saw him. He, uh….was…..he's better now."

"If you say so. Me? Not taking any chances. I saw that dead guy…."

"You don't know that Sam killed him."

"And I saw the guy with his fingers gone and stabbed clean through his other hand, someone did that to him." Jerry continued. "Whoever did that, knew how to use a knife, knew how to inflict pain and damage yet not kill outright and whoever set that fire knew what the hell they were doing. Knew what chemicals were resistant to water and where to find them. No, huh-uh, I like all ten of my fingers right where they are and prefer not to have holes in both sides of my hand. And my innards belong inside my belly where I'd rather they stay and I'm rather fond my house too, so if keeping you comfortable and safe gets him outta town with me whole and my house standing, I'll stay until he comes and gets you and takes you outta here."

Dean couldn't stop the grin that stole across his lips. "You're in no danger from Sam."

"Yeah, right." Jerry snorted. "Janitor found a men's room trashed; blood all over the floor, air dryer and towel dispenser ripped from the wall, sink dislodged. Coincidence? I think not. It was near the ER waiting room where he was told he couldn't see you."

Dean blinked. It didn't shock him like it should have. He'd known Sam had taken the meds and Sam not getting his own way when he wanted it was enough to bring on a fit of rage. Throw into the pot, extreme guilt for not knowing Dean had hurt his jaw and he'd have been out of control.

"Jerry, he won't hurt you." Dean said quietly. "Those two men…they, it was personal."

"You sure about that?" Jerry countered. "I remember when he and the bald guy came in. They argued the entire time they were here. They may not have thought it wise to talk in front of a doctor, but they forgot about nurses being in the room. If you're the brother Sam was so hot and bothered to get back to, ain't no way in hell I'm messing with you either."

"Bobby's here, they're not going to let anything happen to me."

"Right. So says the man with scars on his wrists that are weeks old, laying in a hospital bed with his face so swollen and bruised he looks like someone's punching bag."

"Oh well, my fault." Dean reached for the cup of water, letting Jerry remove it from the table and hand to him. "Sam's getting better with the medication now…..the rest will just take time."

"Well, I gotta say, whether he's better 'cause you're with him or for some other reason, he's like an entirely different person and while yeah, he's different, I know what he did, I saw it and he scared the hell outta me."

"So, how about those crackers?" Dean changed the subject. He was unable to fall asleep so might as well eat and see if anything was on TV. It'd be dawn soon and he expected Sam by 9 o'clock. "What the fuck are these?" he eyed the bowl of orange fish-shaped crackers with wary mistrust. Jerry shook the bowl then set it on the table and moved it over the bed so that the bowl and can of ginger ale were within easy reach.

"Crackers." Jerry said cheerfully. "Cheddar crackers."

"They're shaped like fish."

"Bite sized." Jerry nodded.

"Kid sized." Dean corrected with a scowl. "What's wrong with Saltines or Ritz? Or you know the orange ones with peanut butter?"

"Too big."

"For what?!" he exclaimed then gave a moan of pain. "Of all the mother-hens….." he muttered. "Fine, fine, whatever."

"You should try to get some sleep. Warm enough? You don't seem to be shivering anymore."

"I'm good. Thanks."

Bobby didn't comment when all Sam did with his dinner was make tracks with his fork in his gravy, mash his croutons into bread crumbs and drown his steak in hot sauce. He counted two bites before Sam did nothing but play with his food.

"Enough." Bobby growled, reaching out and snatching the fork from his limp grasp. "Guessing you dunno how to eat left-handed."

"What?"

"So, wanna tell me about the Zomig?"

"Been getting headaches….is all."

"Uh-huh. That's a prescription Sam."

"Yeah."

"Okay, moving on, your hand?"

"Uh, punched a cement post at the gas station yesterday."

"That all?" Bobby pushed. Sam shrugged, hiding his right hand under the table. "Okay, let's find someplace to stash your car then go back to your motel room and take care of that hand. If you promise to lie down and sleep for a couple of hours, I'll take you back to the hospital to get your brother out myself."

"It's ok Bobby."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on."

Once back at the motel, Sam obediently sat on the side of the tub and let Bobby hold his hand under the running water from the cold faucet. Now that he was forced to pay his hand some attention, he found that it was giving him a lot of pain. Not only did his fingers ache, but his wrist did as well and his arm hurt clear to his elbow. His four fingers responded to Bobby's manipulations but bending his thumb had his ass coming up and off the tub with a startled yelp. He fell forward to his knees, left hand flung out to break his fall, right hand still across Bobby's lap.

"Settle down." Bobby said calmly. "Sit your ass back on that there tub. Don't suppose you'd be agreeing to go for x-rays…..yeah, thought not." he poured peroxide on a wad of gauze and captured the two fingernail-less fingers. "Well? Don't be giving me some bullshit story either; you didn't break your thumb by punching anything. You know how to make a fist and throw a punch, proof of that is you didn't break no knuckles. And you didn't rip your nails off by punching any kind of wall neither."

"No." he was still trying to breathe through the onslaught of pain Bobby had unwittingly caused. "Ow."

"I ain't no expert on broken thumbs but my guess is hairline fracture. Memmbe our new friend Jerry can come up with a brace or splint to immobilize it. If it doesn't start to feel better in two days, three at most, then you're going for x-rays iffin' I have to knock you out and drag you in on your back by one foot, you hearin' me?"

Sam managed a soft smile. "Yeah, I hear you."

"How'd you do this Sam?"

"Dunno, honest Bobby, mighta…..I, ah…..there was a…..bathroom at the hospital with an attitude, the air dryer might have…..gotten a little mouthy."

"Fighting with inanimate objects now." Bobby retrieved a bottle from the bag at his feet. "Take a couple of these and go lay down." Sam didn't move, didn't reach for the bottle of meds, didn't raise his head. "Now what?" Bobby asked. "What's going through that head of yours Sam?"

"Nuthing, just thinking…"

"About? Talk to me Sam. You bottling up is never a good thing."

"It's just…I dunno, he keeps getting hurt more often and takes longer to recover. He's never needed a hospital before. I don't mean the accident or the electrocution or being beaten near to death by…...He always bounces back, right back. Few weeks for a compound leg fracture, smacks his head against marble headstones and shakes off a concussion, gets thrown down flights of steps, through windows and gets right up…..barely feels a dislocated shoulder…"

"Sam, he's not twenty anymore and he still recovers quicker than any other human I've ever known, well, aside from you. Look at him, he got cracked across the face and came away with a dislocated jaw, one that took a bloody CT scan to diagnose. Any other mans would have been beyond broken…..I'm talking reconstructive surgery."

"But…the swelling and he bruised and the pain….he passed out…."

"He just doesn't or can't hide it as good anymore. This last year, last couple years have worn him out. They've taken a toll Sam….and you…well, you've put him through a lot. Maybe you aren't as self-absorbed as you always were either, you know? You notice more. Now come on, he's gonna sleep 'til morning, grab a shower and hit the sack, if you want I'll go back to the hospital."

Sam rubbed wearily at his eyes then nodded; would feel good and hot water might ease his tense muscles and help him sleep. "Just call."

Dean was awake when Sam and Bobby finally arrived the following morning. He'd expected them early but they must have decided he needed the rest and medication because it was going on 10 o'clock when they entered his room. He was lounging on the bed when Sam came through the door. First thing Dean saw was the splint on his thumb.

"Victory to the bathroom fixtures?" Dean commented. "Broken?"

"Ready to go?" Sam ignored the taunt. Shudda known Dean would have found out about the most recent melt down. He'd gotten some sleep, mostly due to whatever Bobby had given him, but he hadn't wanted any breakfast and he couldn't recall when or what he'd last eaten. He was tired and bad-tempered and short of patience.

"Yeah, yeah, where we going?"

"Outta town." Bobby said. "Why ain't you dressed?"

"I'm feeling ok, thanks for asking." Dean got off the bed. "Waiting for my clothes."

"How you doing? Looking like shit, come on, time's awastin', let's go." Bobby turned to the small closet and opened the door. "Oh, don't wanna suit up to ride in the car, huh?"

"Not really. Who's driving?"

"Neither of you." Bobby groused. "I'll run out to the car, get you some jeans…"

"How'd you get here?"

"Don't worry about it." Bobby nodded. "Stay here in this room 'til I get back, both of you."


	13. Chapter 13

"You get any sleep last night?" Dean asked Sam who, once Bobby was gone, wilted under the observing gaze from the man who knew him so well.

"Uh, yeah actually." he dropped his eyes to the floor. Fatigue had been stronger than his will and combined with Bobby remaining with him and the knowledge that Dean had been safe and comfortable with a competent nurse keeping an eye on him, he'd been able to fall asleep. "Swelling's down….how's it feel?"

"Aches, doctor has a list of dos and don'ts, he...uh, wants to talk to you before I leave. Seems to think I won't pay him any mind and obey my release instructions."

Sam gave a soft snort. "Wow, didn't take him long to peg you."

"Shut up."

"You feel up to long ride in the car? Bobby wants to get outta town."

"You ok with that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Sam….."

"Dean, it doesn't matter where we go, they are always going to come after me. I don't have the stone, I don't remember what I or Samuel did with it but I can guarantee you, neither of us left it intact. It's gone, destroyed. I can't change what I did or make amends….I killed a man, crippled another. Christ, I burned down half a town Dean. People...died. There's no way I can change that…I did that, me….I have to live with that."

"So what? Stay here and bring the fight to us?"

"Bobby's here, you can see straight, can't you?"

Dean removed his clothes from the closet and tossed them on the bed. He may not want to wear them out of the hospital but he intended to take them with him. He was surprised Sam wanted to stay and fight rather than retreat until Dean had recovered from yet another injury. Had thought Sam would choose to either hole up or ditch him with Bobby and go off after them on his own.

"I don't know what to do Dean." Sam admitted, poking through the plastic container Dean set down next to his suit.

"About what?" Dean understood the questioning glance Sam sent his way. "From Jerry, some pain meds for your thumb too."

Sam gave a slight nod. "How to end this. I mean, you…I can't keep doing this, seeing you…knowing I'm the reason you….." he blew his breath out, hands in his hair. "Christ Dean, look where you are!"

"Been here before Sam."

"Never willingly!"

Dean bit his lip. "Is that was this is about? The ambulance ride?"

"NO! It's about you Dean. You getting hurt and not….I mean, should I have taken you to the hospital with your wrists…..? I made the decision to keep you with me and put you through…..all that. Did you stay because it was what I wanted? Would you have rather gone to the hospital?"

"Sam, enough….."

"Dean, you…your hands…..when I stitched…..."

"Hey….I chose not to tell you how I was feeling yesterday morning. I didn't know I was going to pass out. I don't know why I did. The room was warm and there was a sickly sweet smell and….."

"I never should have let you go in alone. I knew better. Didn't want to split up. Knew at breakfast you were…."

"Were what? I had a bruise on my face and thought ice would be enough."

"Yeah, well, you were wrong." Sam muttered. "I….I just don't like it."

"Like what?"

"You being taken away from me!"

"Aaah." complete understanding finally dawned on him. "Sam, whether I passed out on you or where I did, the end result would have been the same. I wudda ended up here. Good as you are, even you can't fix a broken jaw."

"Yeah, but I would have been the one to bring you in, they wouldn't have been able to keep me away from you." he put his hands on the back of a chair as if it could brace his weight. "I was sooooo damn focused on your teeth 'cause I know how you hate the dentist that it never occurred to me there could have been other injuries."

"Okay, okay, calm down." Dean soothed with a cocky grin. "Don't go getting your panties in a twist, how's the thumb?"

"Oh." he raised his hand. "Bobby thought maybe a hairline fracture, but I can move it, so probably just badly sprained, if it doesn't feel better in a day or so, I'll find a clinic and get x-rays. Splint really helps."

Dean nodded. "Where'd you get it? The splint?"

"Jerry. Soon as Bobby's back, I'll go find your doctor, see what he has to say."

"I'm right here." Bobby huffed breathlessly. "Damn Sam, could you park any further away from the hospital?"

"Side street. Didn't want anyone to see the car in the parking lot."

"Yeah, well, if we'd take my rental, wouldn't have this problem…"

"You tell him we're leaving his car."

"We're what?" Dean had one leg of his jeans on and hopped about on his other foot, struggling to get the other leg on while gearing up to throw a Sam-epic fit. "OH hell NO we're not leaving MY car! If you even think...!"

"Put your damn pants on, your precious car is outside." Bobby chided with a shake of his head. "Sam! Now where you going?"

"Just wanna talk to his doctor, meet me out at the car, gimme thirty minutes." Sam hesitated then left, Bobby and Dean continued to argue about the car.

"How you doing?" Bobby asked, standing against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Once Dean was done telling him about Sam's rage induced headaches, he moved to pack up all the items and supplies Jerry had provided Dean to take with him.

"I'm ok." leaning forward to tie his shoe made him dizzy so he sat back and raised his foot to lay his ankle across his knee. "Honest, I'm good."

"Uh-huh, fine, fine, glad you're feeling ok. Just so you know, ain't no way I' m letting you drive."

"Sam can't…."

"He can but he ain't neither. Come on."

Dean let Bobby carry the plastic box and followed carrying the clothes he'd worn into the hospital. Long car ride, great he sighed, just what he felt up to. Oh well, Sam was willing to leave town so Dean would wait and complain once this town was miles behind them.

There was no sign of Sam so he and Bobby set off across the parking lot, rounding the corner and stepping off the curb to cross the street.

Dean was hit from behind by a force so strong he couldn't stop his forward momentum and was propelled to his knees. Whatever struck him on his back between his shoulders was unrelenting, so forceful it rolled him onto his side and never gave him an opportunity to recover and regain his feet. His mind failed to catch up and he didn't realize the force hadn't abated.

Despite which way he rolled or moved or twisted, the force continued to pummel him. It was unyielding, strong, punishing and chased him no matter what he did to get away from it. It struck him everywhere, arms, legs, back, belly, side, even his feet. In fact, the force was so strong it moved him bodily along the asphalt. All he could do was curl up and cover his head with his arms in an attempt to protect it.

"DEAN!"

He wasn't able to comprehend what was attacking him but he knew the frantic voice shouting his name, easily identified the sound of gunshots. He was still struggling to get away from whatever was pummeling him, still trying to fight an unseen opponent when suddenly, the force was gone and he was left lying on the ground, panting for his breath. Next he knew, he was grabbed and covered and patted and rolled then picked up from the ground and forced to get his legs under him. He staggered as he was dragged a short distance then abruptly dropped.

He remained as he'd been dropped for several minutes before managing to push up to his hands and knees. He eased onto his right hip, turning to sit on his ass, one leg raised so he could support his elbow on his knee. No sign of Bobby, and Sam stood in front of him, effectively blocking the man Sam was facing from getting anywhere near Dean. There was a blanket around his shoulders that covered half his head and he was soaking wet and freezing.

Now was not the time to submit to shock. He had no idea how the situation would play out. Sam could either freak out and go into a blind rage, attacking, perhaps killing anyone he believed was in his way or saw as a threat to his brother, or he could be overwhelmed with guilt and remorse and be unable to defend himself against someone to whom he had done such a grievous wrong.

He didn't feel as though Sam were in any immediate danger. These guys wanted back a stone Sam had taken from them. They either didn't care or failed to believe that Sam didn't remember taking it or what he had done with it. Dean didn't need to be told what happened to the stone. He knew it had been destroyed. No way would Sam or Samuel have left it intact. Not when their sole purpose in coming to town had been to destroy the well.

What worried him was what the men, who too stupid to realize the danger they were in, would threaten to do. He was afraid, and rightly so, that if pushed, Sam would come out fighting. That if they threatened Dean, it would be the last thing any of them did. This all flashed through his befuddled mind in a split second and the rest of him had yet to catch up.

He wiped the cold water from his face, pulling the blanket tighter; he was so cold his fingers didn't want to obey what he required them to do. There was a man lying on the pavement, most likely dead by Bobby's hand as Sam wasn't holding a gun. It didn't seem to matter to Sam because he was only paying attention to the man who stood in front of him. He blew on his fingers; a stupid, futile attempt to warm his icy skin then reached behind his back to pull his .45 from the waist of his jeans.

Dean inched his way around so that he could see around Sam's leg and was no longer completely protected behind him. He expected to find his brother all teary-eyed with emotion and compassion for what he'd done, expected to hear Sam begging for forgiveness and the chance to explain, an opportunity to apologize.

He wasn't at all prepared to hear Sam angrily, voice hostile, threatening the man.

"You will never get that stone back and you will never again have the chance to take my brother in an attempt to use him to get to me." Sam was pissed and acting more like soulless Sam than Dean was comfortable with. "You will never hurt him again." he'd come around the corner to see Dean pinned to the ground under the force of some kind of hose and Bobby slugging it out with a guy.

With a bellow of rage, he'd flung himself at the man wielding the hose, the distraction enough for Bobby to gain the time needed to pull a gun and put a bullet between the eyes of the guy he'd been fighting. Bobby had then tossed him a blanket before taking off in chase of the man who'd abandoned the hose. Sam had been able to move Dean out of the puddle of icy water before he'd been confronted by Donald.

"Yeah, see Sam, still think you're in a position to issue threats, don't you?" Donald said. "You just don't get it, do you? All we ever wanted was to be left alone. But no, you had to come to town and ruin everything. We didn't hurt anyone, the well didn't hurt anyone, now….hell….look at what you did, and for what? Huh? For what? You scared the hell outta these townsfolk! People died, kids died, Carl's dead, I'm crippled..."

"I came to town to destroy an object of evil. I had no problem with this town or anyone in it until YOU went after my brother. Then it was personal. You have a problem with me, you come after me! You're pathetic, you know that? You take a man, with his hands cuffed behind his back and torture him! I gave you and your buddy a fighting chance….."

"Tortured _him_? Hell, have you no idea what that brother of yours is capable of?"

"Don't you?" Sam spat. "Why didn't you just take him on? Why wait until he was at a disadvantage he couldn't overcome to grab him?"

"And the town of Aurora?" Donald ignored the taunt. "That fire you set? The chemical you used to set a fire that burned hotter and faster and water wouldn't put out? How was that giving the town a fighting chance?"

"One thing, one thing was off limits. I warned you from the beginning, take me on, and leave family, friends, partners, anyone and everyone else out of it. You crossed that line, you made the mistake, not me."

"Heard you'd had some kind of head injury, kinda like amnesia. After what you did, ain't surprised you blocked it out and chose not to remember."

"Oh, no, no. No, I remember, I remember everything I did and why. YOU brought Dean into it, both then and now. YOU sent the Djinn after him, YOU threatened him in Cicero and YOU tracked him down and grabbed him in Somersville. YOU did this, not me."

"Yeah, maybe we did but so what? We never had any problem with you until you showed up here flashing your badge around. You brought this on Sam, you did by coming here. What did we ever do to you?"

"Carl started it by threatening to take away the one thing in my life I've always had. You think I was going to let him get away with that? Whether Dean knew I was alive or not, whether we were together or apart, whatever was between us, was between us. You should have left him out of it."

"Give us that stone and we'll leave Dean be, will let him walk away and you'll never see us again. More that I can say for Carl."

"Had you just left Dean alone, I never would have hurt anyone. But you just couldn't do that. Be lucky your town got off as easy as it did. Had I had the time, I would have burned the entire town to the ground." Sam was still shouting, well on his way to working himself into another rage. "I gave Carl a fighting chance. Gave him time for someone to find him. You left him to die."

"Left him? I recall being impaled to a wall."

"You shouldn't have got in my face."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Donald wondered. "Men don't settle a dispute over a mere threat by gutting the other alive, by nailing a man to a wall and cutting off his fingers, by setting fire to a town!"

"That stone, that well, meant everything to you and your town, _it was no mere threat!_" Sam threw his arms wide. "Doesn't matter, that stone was destroyed, I don't have it to give back to you."

"Well then, there's no reason to leave your brother alive now is there? Killing you is too simple, would rather you live knowing you couldn't save him. After all, he's your only weakness, ain't he?"

Dean couldn't move, his hands were frozen and though his fingers freed the gun, they refused to hold it. He felt himself begin to shake and he couldn't stop it. All at once, all over his body, he felt multiple pinpricks and hot stabs and his skin burned as if it had just been flayed from his bones. His vision narrowed, the world spun as the pebbles strewn on the ground rushed toward him. He was burning, something was crawling all over him and he tried, god how he tried to keep his tongue between his teeth and remain quiet but his body betrayed him and his whimper pulled both men's attention to him.

"Dean?" Sam called out.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the distraction the man needed to launch himself at Sam. Crippled hands or not, the man knew how to fight and once Sam regained his feet, he was engaged in a brawl. Sam could hold his own in a fight, usually come out the victor in hand-to-hand combat but he was tired, physically and emotionally exhausted and mentally, his focus was on the soaking wet, injured man off to his left. His sore, abused knuckles made it hard to make a solid fist and his thumb impeded his ability to land solid punches.

Dean bit through his bottom lip as he forced his unwilling body to pull together and obey him. Whether it was by his own ability or he was guided didn't matter. He could be tottering with one foot in his grave, the other broken and supported by a crutch yet remarkably be restored to his full strength when Sam was in danger.

He couldn't yet sit up but was able to rise up on one elbow and steady the hand holding the gun by grasping his wrist; all he needed was one shot. He didn't want to, but if he had to, he could, would shoot through his brother in order to kill the man who wanted Sam dead.

Sam was tiring, his strength waning as his reaction to the whimper from his brother diminished his rage. Concern and worry were the emotions that were driving him now and were fast overtaking his anger. He knew pain and exhaustion would allow his opponent to get the upper hand and if that happened, Dean would be vulnerable. He heard the sound of running feet and in the split second it took for him to flick his eyes sideways, Donald had a knife and was coming at him. Sam cursed; he should have remembered Donald's attachment to knives.

Next thing he knew, a shot rang out, Donald hit the ground and even as he spun around, Bobby was running past him, all over Dean as the gun fell from Dean's limp hand. He lugged Dean up from the ground, briskly frisking him all over with the blanket then hugging him close.

"Sam, get a move on, go get the car, we gotta get outta here." Bobby ordered. "We gotta get him outta this cold, get him warm before he does into shock, that water was ice cold." he resumed his brisk rubbing, fully expecting Sam to obey.

"He ok?"

"He's damn lucky he was wearing his jeans and coat. Boots shudda protected his feet. You can check him over in the car, right now we gotta go." Bobby waved him away, gesturing towards the car but Sam was unable to move, unable to obey the simple order to retrieve the car. He wobbled beside Bobby, wrestling for control of his mind which was fracturing.

"What the hell was that?" Sam exploded, having lost the match. "Jesus Christ Bobby! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"

"See that there pick-up? Got a welding gig on the bed, means a portable generator, powered up a pressure washer." Bobby was toweling at Dean's hair with the blanket. "4000 PSI's can flay skin from bone, tear through tendons like a knife through butter, separate muscle from..."

Oh God, oh dear God, not again. He couldn't do it, couldn't go through that again. Sam felt his stomach drop to meet his knees, that wanting no part of a greeting with any part of the body they identified as an internal organ, dumped him to the pavement. He went forward to the palms of his hands, ready to give in to the rising hysteria and have a good freak-out but Bobby was having none of it.

"Sam…? Sam? SAM!" Bobby reached out and shoved Sam back onto his heels with a hand to his shoulder. "Here." he dumped the shivering bundle of blanket on Sam's thighs and got to his feet. "I'll get the car; get him on him his feet."

Sam jerked a thumb towards the two bodies on the ground. "Are they...?"

"Both dead." Bobby confirmed. "As is the one I chased...now hold him." he hurried away before Sam could protest or refuse.

Sam blinked and gathered his brother as he prepared to lift them to their feet. He wouldn't be able to relax and breathe deep enough to quell his panic until he had the opportunity to strip Dean out of his wet clothes and check him over for any damage the forceful stream of water that had taken him off his feet and driven him along the pavement might have caused. Three men dead in less than five minutes, three men killed in cold blood, three deaths because of him, for him.

He felt the familiar ache begin to throb behind his eye, felt all sensibility cease to exist…

"Saaam?" Dean stirred. "Shit….I….oh-gawd, mmn…son-uva-bitch."

"Yeah, right here. You're ok." and just like that, his mind cleared. What mattered most was lying, shaking, shivering, trembling in his arms, his injuries yet to be determined.

"What the fu…damn-me...I'm caa-old." he stuttered.

"No shit." Sam hefted Dean's weight, hampered by his violent shaking. "You're just wet, water was cold, Bobby's coming with the car and we'll get out of here, get you warm, okay?"

"Duh-on? Don? Miss- ed..you...right?"

"Yeah, you missed me and he won't ever be a problem again."

"Quit hugging me." Dean squirmed in a useless attempt to break free from the embrace that entrapped him within strong arms that weren't giving. "Dude, invading my…oomph." his breath blew out in a grunt when Sam hugged him harder and then they were on their feet. "I can stand you know, get offa me." he shrugged and twisted and pushed but failed in his attempts to distance himself.

Sam relaxed his hold, starting to let him go but when his knees buckled, Sam was there to support his weight. "No, no, no, stay on your feet Dean, car's coming…." he felt Dean give up and slump against him. Sam knew Dean wasn't allowing himself to be held nor was he seeking comfort. When in near hypothermia distress, a human body instinctively sought warmth and that was all Dean was doing but he didn't care. He would take the moment of closeness, this rare display of vulnerability no matter the reason.

"Sam?" Dean lifted his head from where it rested. "I gotta sit…..down…..I wanna….."

"No, no….not yet, stay with me….come on….." he knocked his knee against Dean's leg, making him take one shaky step, then another. "Yeah, that's it….come on, walk with me, car's here…no, no, backseat…."

"You…ain't driving." Dean got out through chattering teeth.

"Right, like you are….get in."

***000***

Bobby kept the wheel, driving in silence. The rearview mirror was angled so he could see Dean in the backseat and his eyes were strained from slanting sideways to keep an eye on Sam who dosed in the passenger seat. They'd pulled over ten minutes out of town to strip Dean out of his wet clothes. Finding no serious injury, they'd settled him with dry blankets and left him be. Bobby hadn't said a word, still hadn't. Sam wasn't ready to take words of consolation or gestures of comfort, preferring to wallow in guilt.

Dean was ok, would be uncomfortable and in some pain for the next few days, but once again, he'd dodged any serious injury. That stroke of good luck was most likely due to the heavy coat and jeans and boots he'd insisted on wearing out of the hospital.

The worst damage was to the back of his hands and fingers; the only skin exposed to the stream of water. He hadn't suffered any further damage to his jaw and he'd been able to protect his head and face. His hands might require more treatment then the cleansing they'd been given to prevent infection. That would be determined once they reached a motel, where they could properly tend to, and thoroughly clean both hands, but until then, the quick job Sam had done leaning over the back of the front seat would suffice.

"Sam, next exit has motels. I'm beat, what say we pull off the road for the night? We're far enough from Aurora, it's safe." Bobby didn't ask him to drive, knew he was beyond the ability to cope.

"K." Sam agreed sleepily.

Thirty minutes later, they were booked into one motel room consisting of two beds and a folding cot. Bobby had suggested two rooms but Sam had shaken his head, requesting the cot to be delivered to the room while checking in. He was tired and in pain and not at all ok. If he had to, he would deal with his brother and the situation they were in on his own but since Bobby was with them, he was more than willing to accept his help.

He knew he'd have to see to his brother before he could seek his own comfort but it was a price he was willing to pay for having the threat to his brother's life over and Dean with him. Bobby was exhausted and had his own minor injuries to attend to. Sam couldn't expect him to cater to Dean's whims and demands and knowing Dean, he'd be awake at dawn and demanding breakfast.

After forcing Dean into a hot shower then making him sit still while he tended to his hands, Sam decided to leave to him with Bobby and go find a store. His own shower would wait. The room had a kitchenette and if he wanted to feed Dean come morning without leaving the motel room, he'd have to go shopping now.

"Bobby? Hey, gonna run out to the store, get a few things. I'd rather he stay in the motel room for the next day or so.." he paused. "Oh." he saw the look to cross Bobby's face. "Did you plan on driving on tomorrow?"

"No, no, he could use the rest and these old bones ain't gonna complain staying put another day or so. Aah, why don't you stay here with him and I'll go get whatever you want. Gimme a list."

"I'll go. I just….an hour, I'll only be an hour. Just going to a food store, you know? Don't really wanna be the one to tell him come morning there's no breakfast and he's not allowed to go out."

"Got a point. Ok, go on….but….call me anything feels off, you hearing me?"

"Yeah. He should sleep but should he wake up and give you a hard time….."

"I can handle him. He'll sleep for hours, off with you now."

***000***

"Sam, dude, seriously, what the fuck?" Dean spluttered as an arm swooped over his head and swiped his breakfast from his hand. Sam plopped the waffles on a plate and picked up the pair of scissors he'd set next to it. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Dean, despite our screwed upbringing, we were raised to use a fork." his face flushed with irritation. "I know you aren't deaf, the doctor spoke English and yet you just think you're going to stuff an entire waffle in your mouth?"

"How else am I supposed to eat it? You didn't give me a knife!"

Sam waggled the pair of scissors in the scowling face of his cranky brother with a look that said exactly what he thought about Dean's whining.

"It's bad enough I had to let you cut up my food when you tied shoe-horns to my wrists, but man, come on! And dude, not broken, no longer dislocated, I can eat whatever the hell I want, how I want. Not three you know. And what's with the scissors? Christ, we have a dozen knifes between us." he glanced down at the white bandages wrapped around his hands and wiggled his fingers. "SEE! They move Sam."

Sam finished snipping the waffle into small bite size pieces and began cutting up the second one. "You know Dean, can you once, just once, be thankful for something I do for you? Your mouth, your teeth, your jaw are going to be sore and swollen for a week. Keep running your mouth, go ahead and I'll stabilize it by bandaging your jaw to keep you from opening your mouth too widely. Your fingers might work, but let's see how fast you can untie a knot with the way your hands are hurting. The doctor told you, you should open your mouth wide enough to insert a fork, not bite, for at least six weeks. He also told you, you should support your jaw with one or both hands when yawning and sneezing and to eat soft foods and take small bites."

"Yeah, well, didn't hear him say I should thank you for cutting up a waffle with scissors." he retorted. "Christ Sam, _waffles_?"

"Soft foods Dean, keep whining and I'll take away your ice cream and make you eat yogurt."

"What the hell does ice cream have to do with waffles?"

"What part of 'soft foods' do you not understand?" he squeezed the bottle of maple syrup, glancing up when Dean cleared his throat and waggled his eyebrows. "What? More? For someone who's complaining about having waffles for breakfast you sure are picky about how they're served." he slapped the plate down in front of Dean. "And there are no kitchen knives. No matter, I don't want you holding one anyway. Until the skin on your hands has a chance to heal, you won't be holding anything sharp."

"That'd be the back of my hands Sam, and they're fine."

"Humor me."

"We gonna talk the other night?" Dean asked. He was content to let it go for the time being. If Sam chose to focus on his jaw and not what went down that night, he was ok with that for now. "Sooner or later….the headaches, the fits of rage…your loss of control…"

"I know." he avoided making eye contact but Dean noticed the tick in his chin begin to quiver. "Just...does it have to be now? Dean…."

Not wanting tears or an emotional scene Dean decided to let the entire subject go and sought of a way to divert his brother's attention. He still wasn't up to snuff and he saw no harm in letting that show. Better to give Sam something trivial to fuss over then to allow him to continue on his current destructive course.

"Didn't you buy butter? Hey, are these like, whole grain waffles or something? I mean, they're brown. Why are they brown? Aren't waffles yellow? And how come this syrup is, like watery? Why's its color so light?" he raised horrified eyes to Sam. "Dude, did you buy me lite syrup? It better not be some sugar-free, low-calorie crap, I'll wash your hair in it if it is."

"Eat-Your-Damn-Waffles!"

"Is this how it's gonna be then? Another month of you having to have your own way? I'm tired of that route Sam. It gets old, real quick." he scowled at the straw in a glass of milk. "Dude! Seriously? Milk? HEY-YO! Where's my Krazy Kurly straw? If you're gonna make me use a straw, then I want MY straw and how come you didn't get chocolate milk? Did you at least get chocolate syrup? I'll need a spoon. And how the hell is cutting food with a knife gonna do me harm? You two are like old nannies, nag, nag, nag."

"God Dean, do you always have to do this?" man, maybe a broken jaw wouldn't have been so horrible after all. At least then Dean wouldn't have diarrhea of the mouth. "Just give me this, please?" his eyes went misty and the annoying tick in his chin knocked up from quiver to twitch. Dean stared him down, finally nodding and picking up a fork.

"Okay, fine. Again, Burger King, have it your way." he stabbed a soggy piece of waffle and opened his mouth to insert the fork. He barely stifled the whimper of pain caused by the simple act of opening his mouth. He raised a hand to cuddle his jaw, caught Sam's smug smirk and flipped him off. "How'm I suppose to bite into a cheeseburger?" he got 'that look', again and sighed in childlike frustration. "I know, I know, keep my mouth closed, eat soft foods and take small bites. Fine, whatever, but it ends here, you hearing me?"

"You'll feel better in a couple of weeks, can you honestly tell me you feel up to a greasy burger now? We'll head to the cabin til you can eat without pain, okay?"

Dean wanted to argue but he was exhausted, body really feeling the effects of being knocked down and pushed around from the pressure washer in the latest skirmish and all he could do was nod.

"Don't go trying to remember anything more your…dickless, er, alter-self did. Can you give me that Sam? Let the rest remain in the past. Remembering is killing you, it's tearing you apart and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. You need to let it go."

Sam nodded, for his brother's sake, he would try. Some things really were best left in the past. "Okay."

***END***


End file.
